Once in a Lifetime
by Negaduck
Summary: The loss of the guest star throws The Muppet Show into chaos, more so than usual. Meanwhile, Miss Piggy and Scooter face events that could change their lives, if they will let them. A followup to "Growing Together."
1. Chapter 1

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 1: How Do I Work This?  
**By Kim McFarland

* * *

The backstage area of the Muppet Theater was alive with a generous variety of creatures. The jabber spanned several languages and all of the audible octaves, plus some slopover on either side. Although they were carrying out many different tasks, everyone was focused on the same goal: gearing up for the beginning of the next season of The Muppet Show. Filming would start this weekend, so the backstage action was getting pretty intense.

Scooter and Kermit were sitting at the desk backstage right, trying to sort out the particulars of the first set of shows. In theory it would have been quieter in Kermit's office. In practice, however, the chaos would follow them wherever they went, so they might as well stay out here, where they could quickly deal with whatever issues arose.

Kermit said, "The first three shows have all been laid out. Do we have extra acts?" 

"Yeah, we have a few spares for each show in case something needs to be replaced," Scooter answered.

"And the guests have been signed for the first three shows." After a few recent near-misses, they had learned to book the guests well in advance.

Scooter glanced around. "Well…actually, there's a little snag there," he said in a low voice.

"What? What kind of snag?"

"Well…we have three guests for the first three shows, but they're all available for the second and third ones."

"How did _that_ happen? We got Lady Gaga for the first show! The contract is signed," Kermit exclaimed.

"She's got jury duty."

Kermit stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Read it and weep." Grimly he handed Kermit a fax. There was an handwritten apology from Gaga and a copy of the summons. "She's gotta go. It's the law."

"Sheesh," Kermit said, shaking his head. "This is like a cheap plot device."

Scooter shrugged unhappily. At that moment Bo ambled by, pushing a cart with his tool chest and some planks of wood. Kermit glanced over. "Bo, what're you doing with that? I thought the theater was ready to go."

"Someone broke the fourth wall," the custodian answered.

Kermit and Scooter looked at each other. Kermit said, "Uh, yeah. Carry on."

Bo walked off. Scooter said, "I just found out. That fax came in today."

"Yeah, I saw the time stamp. What contingencies do we have planned?"

"Now? None. I've never had to cast an understudy for the guest star."

"Yeah. Well…just get someone else. Whoever you can. I trust you, Scooter." He patted him on the shoulder.

"Thanks, boss," Scooter said with a cocky grin.

Kermit started for the stairs to the dressing rooms. Scooter's smile faded. He flipped back a few pages on his clipboard to the list of potential guests he and Kermit had compiled. Then he got up to go to Kermit's office. He didn't want anyone to overhear him and learn about the change of plans until he had a substitute guest to tell them about.

He sat down at Kermit's desk and looked at the list of names. He let out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he picked up the phone.

* * *

Kermit walked past the doors of various dressing rooms. Some were decorated with stars. One bore a glitter-covered egg. When he laid a hand on the knob below a very large shiny star he heard a raised voice from within. Miss Piggy was talking to someone on her phone, and whoever it was, Kermit would not want to be in their shoes. He continued on past the door.

Miss Piggy snarled into her cell phone, _"Teeny Weeny Queenies?_ Even the title is idiotic! I am not going to guest star on any show about 'Little Miss' pageants!" A brief pause, "I never wanted those photos published in the first place. They didn't come from _me_." Pause. "Of course not. If _you'd_ been the one who leaked them, I'd be talking to my _new_ agent."

Ever since a magazine printed previously-unknown pictures of Miss Piggy as a young child in various beauty pageants for babies and little girls, Bernie had been fending off requests for Miss Piggy to appear at kiddie pageants. She had refused all offers flatly, and told Bernie that she wasn't interested, period, end of story. But, Bernie reminded her, earlier she had told him that for six figures she'd even pose for a bacon calendar. That got her attention. She said, "What? How much?"

He answered, and she whistled. They _really_ wanted her. But she said, "A bacon calendar would be gone next year and only a few whacko fans would keep it after that. These would hang on forever in streaming media, like a…" Like a what? "Like bad plumbing! So tell 'em _moi_ regrets to say that _moi_ has other commitments. For the rest of my life!"

There was a pause. Piggy's eyes widened. Then she yelled, _"What?!"_ into the phone. "You already signed the contract?!" Another pause as she listened. Then she snapped, "You just E-mail me a copy of that contract. Right now. We're not hanging up until I get it."

She had the contract within a minute. She bade Bernie a falsely sweet farewell and clicked off, regretting that a cell phone didn't slam as dramatically as the old-fashioned kind did. She forwarded the E-mail with the contract attachment, then dialed her attorneys. "Porque and Beanes? It's Miss Piggy. I just forwarded you a copy of a contract my agent just sent me. Get me out of it. NOW."

* * *

One area of the theater was relatively calm: the stage. The Muppets who were not currently part of the chaos sheltered there in the eye of the storm. They were currently playing a card game. The stakes were bottle caps, matchsticks, odd buttons, and whatever else would serve as markers. Rowlf fanned the cards in his hand, then laid a seven of hearts down.

Camilla clucked. Her three-year-old chick Billie, who did not yet understand the game but who had the hands that her mother lacked, pointed to one of the cards she was holding and said, "This one?" Camilla nodded, and Billie put a jack of hearts down. In the process she accidentally showed everyone the rest of the hand; out of courtesy they pretended not to see it.

Bobo, Fozzie, Janken Fraggle, and Sweetums took turns playing cards that were either the same value or the same suit as the one set down by the previous player. Before long Bobo played the last card in his hand and, pleasantly surprised, gathered the small heap of detritus that was his reward. Janken, who hadn't won a hand all day, stood and said, "I'm out. Later."

As the gang redistributed the wealth in preparation for the next hand, Janken strolled over to backstage right, expecting to see Scooter and Kermit at the desk. Neither was there.

* * *

Janken wandered around the back of the Muppet theater for a while, looking either for Scooter or something he could help out with. He found the former in Kermit's office. He heard Scooter's voice inside, and pauses in between; he was on the phone. Janken waited until the dialogue was over, then tapped on the door and looked in. Scooter was alone in there, sitting at Kermit's desk, a frustrated expression on his face. Surprised, Janken asked, "Problem?"

He beckoned. "Shut the door."

Janken came in and closed the door behind himself, then went over to the desk. Scooter said, "Our first guest star just called out and I have to find a replacement."

"Lady Gaga? What happened?" Janken said.

"Jury duty."

"Nuts! Everyone's looking forward to having her on the show."

"No kidding! We'll have her later on; she really wants to do a show with us. But that leaves a hole in this week's show."

"It shouldn't be _too_ hard to get someone, should it? I mean, there are others who'd like to be guest stars."

"Yeah, but getting someone on this short notice isn't easy. Plus, when we do get someone we'll have to write a whole new show around 'em." Scooter shook his head and sighed. "This is not going to be a great week. Don't tell anyone else about this; it'd just make things worse if people freak before we have a plan in place. Let me sort it out first."

Janken patted his hand. "Got it. My lip is zipped."

"Yeah. Anyway, I need to get back to it. Sorry."

"No problem. Want me to get you some coffee or anything?"

"Nah, thanks. I'm jumpy enough as it is. Lemme just take care of this."

"Okay then. Later." Janken smiled warmly and squeezed his hand, then left the office.

As the door clicked shut Scooter looked at the list of names, most of which had been marked through. Where were the Mummenschanz when you needed them? He looked at the door again. He'd rather be with Janken than alone in this office with only a near-impossible task to keep him company. Well, that didn't say much, as he'd rather be _anywhere_ else. But he and Janken had been together for a few years, and, he'd recently come to realize, he wanted many more. Without really deciding to, they'd become a part of each other's lives. The way things were going…

He let himself daydream about that for a few minutes, then came back to reality and dialed the next number on his contact list.

* * *

Later that day Kermit went back to the desk on stage right and looked it over for news. There were no notes from Scooter. He must still be trying to get a guest. Oh boy. Kermit crossed the stage, stepping over the chalk marks and walking around the Twister mat. When he got to the other side he heard the sound of a hammer. He looked up, and found Bo nailing a board over a dent in the wall Gonzo had made while trying out a new stunt. Bo noticed him and said, "I'm almost done fixing the fourth wall."

Kermit had to ask. "Bo, how is the backstage left far wall the _fourth_ wall?"

"I counted one-potato style," Bo explained.

That made sense, in a Beauregard kind of way. "Okay," Kermit said, and continued on to his office.

* * *

All characters except Janken Fraggle are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted characters are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	2. Chapter 2

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 2: Time Doesn't Hold You Back  
**By Kim McFarland

* * *

It was early evening in the Muppet Theater. The day's chaos had produced results: costumes were sewn, acts were rehearsed, blocking was blocked. Kermit and Scooter had been largely unavailable, which was unusual, but everyone had been so occupied by their own tasks that their absence had hardly been noticed.

Scooter looked up when the door to Kermit's office clicked open. Kermit walked in, noted the scatter of paper copiously decorated with crossouts and handwritten comments on his desk and Scooter's emphatically non-perky expression, and didn't feel good about asking, "What'd you get, Scooter?"

Scooter looked down. "Nothing yet," he said tiredly.

"You haven't been able to schedule anyone for this weekend?" Kermit asked, surprised.

"Nope. Most say they can't do a show on such short notice when we don't even have a script to send 'em. The few that could wanted more than we had in the budget for short notice and overtime for rehearsals. More than we could stretch to." He looked up. "I'm stumped, boss."

"No bites at all? Wow," Kermit said. He'd been sure Scooter could find somebody.

"I'll keep trying, but it's not looking good. Only a few days 'til the show."

"I know, I know."

"Sorry, Kermit."

Kermit realized he'd been looking at the walls, which were covered with framed clippings, playbills, and photos of previous guests. He turned back to Scooter and, looking him in the glasses, said, "I know you did your best. And, yeah, the longer it takes us to find a guest, the less time we're going to have to write and rehearse the show. So, I'm making an executive decision."

"What's that, boss?" Scooter asked, hope in his voice.

"I'm, er, still making it."

* * *

A few minutes later Kermit got on the PA system and called a meeting. The Muppets quickly filled the audience area. As they took their seats Kermit looked at their eager expressions. They were really looking forward to this show. They had been ever since they had booked their guest star months ago. He was not going to enjoy this.

When they had a quorum Kermit said, "Everyone, please." They continued jabbering among themselves excitedly. "Quiet. _Quiet!"_

Scooter stood and faced the audience. He shouted, "Kermit's got something to say!"

That startled them into silence. Nobody could remember hearing Scooter yell before. Scooter, grinning—after the day he'd had, it felt good to scream a little—turned to Kermit and said, "Boss."

"Thanks," Kermit said, as surprised as the rest.

Scooter sat down. Behind him, a monkey wearing a vest leaned forward and said admiringly, "You do that very well."

"Thanks, Sal," Scooter replied in a low voice.

Kermit said, "Now, we've all been looking forward to doing a show with Lady Gaga." There was a murmur of enthusiastic agreement. "Well, the good news is that we'll be able to anticipate it for a little longer." Another enthusiastic murmur, which changed in tone as people recognized the implication. Kermit knew that to stall any longer would be futile if not dangerous, and said, "The bad news is that that show has been postponed. She has jury duty. She _will_ be here, just not this weekend."

People expressed their dismay all at once. Well they might; they'd really been busting their britches on the upcoming show. Lew Zealand exclaimed, "I got a giant fish all special for her!"

Comfortingly Rizzo said, "Awww, too bad. We really feel for ya." He turned away and announced, "So who's up for seafood tonight, huh?"

Lew exclaimed, "You're not eating my chum! He's trained! I'll keep him until the show."

Clifford groaned, "Aw, man, we're never getting our Jacuzzi back."

The Muppets continued their babble of complaint. Fozzie turned back and said as loudly as he dared, "Everyone, wait, listen! I'm sure Kermit has a great plan for the show."

Floyd spoke up. "Yeah? Lay it on us."

Everyone's attention was again on Kermit. Bravely he said, "Well…the fact of the matter is, we haven't been able to schedule a guest for this weekend. So we're going to save the acts we came up with especially for Lady Gaga, use the ones that aren't show-specific this weekend, and come up with whatever we need to fill in the rest."

Miss Piggy had not had a good day. First her agent booked her onto a miniseries called _Teeny Weeny Queenies_, which she would rather wear off-the-rack clothes than appear in. And now this! Her temper erupted. "Are you telling me that I spent all week on our act, getting the costume and all that other weird makeup and stuff together, and now we don't have a guest star _at all?!"_

Scooter began, "We only found out today. I spent all afternoon on the phone-"

It had been a bad decision to open his mouth, Scooter realized when Piggy stood and rounded on him. "Doing what? Obviously not talking to anyone's _agent!"_

Kermit said, loudly enough to be heard to the back of the theater, "Piggy! Scooter knows his job, and he did the best he could! We only found out today and there wasn't enough time to get someone else! _Nobody_ could have done any better."

Piggy fought with her instinct, which was to karate chop someone who deserved it. Kermit, who knew her well and was prepared for the possible consequences, took her by the hand. The gesture startled her enough to let him continue. "Piggy, nobody likes this. But what we have to do now is just start planning this weekend's show."

Her eyes met his. Kermit braced himself. She pulled her arm out of his grasp with a quick jerk. She shot a glare at Scooter, than sat down again.

The moment of crisis had passed. Kermit raised his voice and said, "We'll broadcast the TV episodes out of order so hers will still be the season opener. This is a big disappointment, but not a show-stopper. Remember, this has happened to us before."

Fozzie said, "So, we're just going to have a show without a guest star?"

Gonzo said, "Hey, it's the _**Muppet**_ _Show_. We can carry it!"

"So says our fan mail," Rizzo chimed in.

"That's right. So this would be a great time to try out some new ideas," Kermit suggested.

That sparked some interest, and Muppets began chattering amongst themselves. One thing Muppets never did was run out of ideas. _Good_ ideas was a different issue. Kermit decided that this week it didn't matter if an act succeeded, flopped, or transformed midway through, as long as it did it big. And this would be a welcome opportunity to let the guys blow off some steam.

Janken, who had been sitting quietly beside Scooter, said, "Um, Kermit? Maybe this would be a good time to try showing the backstage on the side screens?"

The idea had been discussed before. It sounded like it would work: film backstage scenes ahead of time, then project them onto tricot screens lowered to the sides of the stage. It would give the audience the impression that they could see what was going on on the other side of the wall. It might work and it might flop. He said, "This is the weekend to try that out. When we start getting acts together let's film the backstage bits."

Someone else called for Kermit's attention. Scooter turned to Janken and said, "You read my mind. I was going to suggest that."

"I thought so." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "For a second I thought Piggy was going to hit you!"

"So did I. It wouldn't be the first time."

"Yeah, I know," Janken said uneasily.

"Oh, don't worry. She wouldn't really clobber the guy who handles her travel arrangements."

* * *

The Muppets spent a productive evening spitballing ideas and possible backstage plots. Kermit had hoped that turning this setback into an opportunity would appease them, and so far it had.

Soon it was time to head home. They started for the bus. Scooter hung back while others boarded the psychedelically-painted former schoolbus. Janken walked his bicycle out. Scooter said, "See you tomorrow."

"See you," Janken, answered. With a smile he bumped his nose against Scooter's—their private shorthand for a kiss—and then the Fraggle mounted up and rode off.

Scooter got into the bus. It was half full. He started down the aisle. Miss Piggy, seated at the front and holding a place for Kermit, said, "Oh, Scooter,"

"Yes, Miss Piggy?"

"I hope you didn't misunderstand me earlier. I never said this was _your_ fault. _Moi_ was merely expressing _moi's_ disappointment at an unfortunate situation."

Scooter recognized an apology when he heard one, indirect though it might be. "No problem," he told her. "That's what I thought you meant."

He took a seat a few rows back, mentally going over the tasks he would need to take care of that evening and in the morning. He went down a list he had done so many times he knew it by heart. He was halfway through when he realized that everything hinged on the guest star. Without a guest and while everyone was coming up with new acts there was nothing he really had to do. He heard the engine start up, setting the bus vibrating gently beneath him. He hopped up and quickly went up to the front. Beauregard was closing the door. Scooter said, "Bo, wait, lemme out."

"You should have thought of that before you left the theater."

"No, not that. I'm gonna take my bike."

Bo pulled the lever that opened the door. "Okay. Race you?"

"Some other time. See you tomorrow," Scooter said as he went down the stairs.

As the bus pulled away Scooter went to the back door and unlocked it again. He took his bicycle out, locked the door again, and rode out the alley.

* * *

Janken Fraggle had returned to his basement apartment, which was not far from the theater by bicycle. It was a pleasant ride, especially at night. He hadn't felt like cooking, so he had made himself a carrot and radish sandwich and was eating it while watching a DVD he had borrowed from the library. He startled when he heard a knock at the door.

He put the sandwich down and paused the DVD. When he opened the door he said in surprise, "Scooter? Come in."

Scooter said with a grin, "I changed my mind. I need to get away from it all."

Scooter came in, and they kissed. Janken said, "The day you've had, I don't wonder. You can't have had time to eat. I'll make you something."

"Thanks."

While Janken was retrieving fruits and vegetables from the mini-refrigerator and cutting them up, Scooter looked at the image on the DVD player screen. It was something animated that he didn't recognize.

Janken wasn't into owning things; all his possessions would fill a banker's box, and of those the only items he would miss if he lost them were a scarf and a pair of socks, both from Fraggle Rock. The scarf was colorful, made of Fraggle wool from his family, and the socks…well, as far as Scooter could tell Fraggles just liked socks. Anyway, Janken hadn't wanted to own a television or DVD player; such things were "stuff," encumbrances. He had always watched videos at the library. But, Scooter saw, he had been making use of the portable DVD player that Scooter had left with him.

Janken set a platter of neatly arranged sliced vegetables, fruit, cheese, and dip down on the coffee table. He said, "Thanks for giving me an excuse to make one of these up."

"Thanks. Oh, there's another reason I came over," he said seriously.

"Really? What? Want tea?"

"Icewater, if you don't mind."

"'Kay. What's the other reason?"

"I wanted to be with you."

Grinning, Janken set a pair of glasses on the table, one tea and one icewater. "It didn't occur to me that it might be otherwise. Want a shoulder massage?"

"Thanks, maybe later. Right now I just want to relax. What're you watching?"

"_My Neighbor Totoro._ Miyazaki. The two girls remind me of my little sisters. Heard of it?"

"I don't think so. Let's watch."

Janken brought the DVD back to the title menu, then pressed play. While the movie was loading he sat by Scooter on the couch and put the platter on his and Scooter's laps. Scooter put his arm around Janken's shoulders, drawing him close, and Janken rested his head comfortably on Scooter's shoulder. They watched the movie and ate.

* * *

All characters except Janken Fraggle are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted characters are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	3. Chapter 3

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 3: This Is Not My Beautiful Wife**  
By Kim McFarland

* * *

It was Tuesday morning. Muppets would soon be at the theater if they weren't there already, working on acts for the upcoming weekend. Scooter, his eyes unfocused by sleep, checked his phone. There were no messages for him. Good.

He was lying in his pajamas on the couch that served as a bed. Janken was, of course, already up. The Fraggle popped out of bed at the crack of dawn. Literally; sunlight woke him up. This wasn't a problem in winter, but during summer it could be downright exasperating. At least he was kind enough to let Scooter sleep in. Or, as he was doing today, to awaken him with something pleasant, like the smell of coffee and breakfast.

Scooter sat up and stretched. Janken, hearing the movement, looked over and smiled. He was still in his pajamas too. Scooter got up and went to the bathroom, where he brushed him teeth and otherwise prepared himself for the rigors of consciousness. Then he returned to the living room, which was the only other room of the apartment. Janken was turning a vegetable and mushroom omelet out of an electric wok onto a plate.

Sitting on the couch again, this time in its capacity as a couch, Scooter said, "Good timing."

Janken handed him a cup of coffee. "You trained me well."

Scooter sipped the drink. It had just the right amount of cream and sugar. Janken couldn't stand coffee; he was a tea drinker. Thank heavens for instant coffee. Scooter supposed that one could say that he had trained Janken to wake him up with coffee and breakfast, or one could say that Janken had trained him to get up without complaint at the smell of food and caffeine. However you looked at it, it worked.

Janken divided the omelet, set out some biscuits, and served two bowls of fruit salad with yogurt and granola. To Scooter, who had been acclimated to cereal and waffles and bacon, this had originally seemed weird, but once he got used to it, it was really good. One thing you could say about Fraggles: even though they were vegetarians they ate well. Afterward Scooter washed the dishes. That was the usual division of labor, as Janken enjoyed cooking and, if it was left to Scooter, they would have been eating a lot of PBJ sandwiches.

They hadn't discussed that; it had just happened. A lot of things just worked themselves out these days. They knew each other that well, and if there were any sticky points, they were comfortable talking about them, so tension didn't build.

Janken asked, "When are we going to the theater?"

"Probably shouldn't wait long."

"Yeah."

"Jan, want to do some shopping during lunch?"

"Shopping for what?"

"I was thinking, maybe we could get rings."

"Rings?" From the way Scooter said that, it had been on his mind for a while. Janken sat next to him.

"Yeah. People who are couples often wear rings," Scooter explained.

"Wedding rings," Janken said uncomfortably. The idea of pairing off with someone was fine, but Janken found the social and legal structure surrounding marriage appalling. Love was too personal a thing to be treated like a contract.

Scooter said, "I know Fraggles don't marry. I just thought, well, I'd like to wear a ring, and I'd like to give you one too."

Janken asked, "What would it mean?"

"Just that I love you."

Janken looked at Scooter thoughtfully. After a long moment he smiled. "Yes, I'll wear a ring that means I love you."

Scooter grinned and hugged Janken. "Great!"

Janken laughed a little. Then he asked, "What kind of ring?"

"Men's rings are usually pretty simple. I was thinking a band of some kind. Couples usually get matching rings."

"I like simple. I don't think I could manage rocks like Miss Piggy and Dr. Teeth wear."

"I don't know how Teeth pulls his sleeves over those things."

Janken picked Scooter's smart phone up off the coffee table. "Can I?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't know much about rings. I'd like to see what they look like."

"Oh, sure, go ahead."

Janken tapped on the screen. "Um, if it turns out that I can't wear it on my hand, could I wear it around my neck?"

"Wouldn't that be kind of a pinch?"

Janken nudged him with an elbow. "I mean, on a chain or something."

"Sure, that'd be fine. I wouldn't want it to be uncomfortable."

"Thanks." The browser was now up. Janken asked, "Is there a site I should go to?"

"Just Google around."

Janken tapped in the URL with some difficulty and selected a likely-looking link. A few more clicks brought them to a long page of men's rings. They came in a wide variety, from simple, unadorned bands to glittery gauds. Scooter let Janken scroll around for a while, looking at the styles.

Janken turned to Scooter. "The pictures are so tiny. I don't know what it'll look and feel like on my hand."

"We'll buy from a place in town, not online. We can try 'em on," Scooter assured him. "I like the simple ones, myself." He pointed to several bands that were either plain or had simple engraved designs.

"Yeah," Janken nodded. Then he said, "Um, if we buy them from a store here, someone might see us."

"Yeah, and someone's _sure_ to notice if we start wearing matching rings during the show."

They both knew from their time spent on Muppet message boards that fans were notorious for noticing those kinds of little details. Janken said, "We won't wear 'em on camera, right?"

"I'll keep mine on."

"Then I should take mine off?" Janken asked, puzzled.

Scooter said quietly, "I mean, let 'em notice. And if they put two and two together, well, okay."

"You _want_ people to find out we're gay?" Janken had never been self-conscious about that—among Fraggles, sexual orientation was no big deal—but Scooter had wanted to keep it a secret. So, in public and on camera they were just friends. Outside of Fraggle Rock, only the other Muppets and Scooter's sister Skeeter knew the truth. Janken hadn't expected Scooter ever to volunteer to drop the mask.

Scooter explained, "Well... I just don't feel the way I used to about it. Even after everybody told me I'm okay, there's nothing wrong with me until it finally stuck, still, it's hard letting go of that baggage. If I'd known someone else like me who was like me—does that make sense?" Janken nodded encouragingly "If I'd known, maybe I wouldn't have felt so weird, been afraid of what I am. Now, well, I feel silly about that."

Janken put an arm around Scooter. "You shouldn't," he said.

"I guess it boils down to, I don't want to hide any more. I don't want to pretend. I don't want to make a big deal about it either, though, because it _isn't_. This way, I can let 'em figure it out for themselves without making a production out of it, 'Hey, look at me, I'm gay,' ugh. If word gets out, well, let it. And maybe there's someone else out there who feels like I used to, and maybe it'll help 'em to know there someone else out there like them."

"Yeah."

"Boy, did that need a script editor," Scooter stage whispered. Then he said, "But this isn't about getting noticed, Jan. I love you, and I want to wear a ring that means that. That's all. Um…what do you think about this? Letting people figure it out?"

Janken smiled and took his hand. "Scooter, I'd wear your ring even if I had to pierce my tail to do it."

Several minutes later the conversation switched back to verbal mode. Scooter said, "So, want to go shopping today?"

"Are you sure you'll have the time?" Janken asked.

"I'll _make_ the time," Scooter answered.

* * *

All characters except Janken Fraggle are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted characters are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	4. Chapter 4

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 4: Same As It Ever Was**  
By Kim McFarland

* * *

Miss Piggy, wearing a smart yet stunning business suit in cerise with plum shoes and purse, entered the reception area of the law firm of Porque and Beanes. The receptionist, a young woman also of the porcine persuasion, greeted her. "Mr. Beanes is expecting you. Please come with me."

Miss Tamworth led her to her attorney's office and opened the door. "Miss Piggy is here."

The boar at the desk looked up. As Piggy took the seat in front of his desk she said, "Can you get me out of that contract?"

He knew this wouldn't be a pleasant consultation. He said, "Let me put it this way, Miss Piggy. I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

She said, "Gimme the good news."

He told her, "You'll make a pretty penny for your appearance on Teeny Weeny Queenies."

"No," she told him. "Good news is, 'You'll have to pay a penalty for backing out of the show.' So, what's the penalty? I'll pay it. Just get me out."

"I'm afraid that isn't an option. They have a very tight contract. You cannot make appearances on any other television shows until you at least start filming theirs."

"What?" she exclaimed.

He laced his fingers together on the desk. "I'm afraid so. They need you _now_, which is why they are willing to pay you so well. They have no time to find someone else. And consider which network they're on. They have considerable legal resources. I believe that, considering what a tight spot they would be in if you did not do their show, they would not hesitate to file a breach of contract action. And the filming starts today."

"I am going to kill Bernie."

"Miss Piggy, why do you object to this show so strenuously?" he inquired.

"Mind your own business," she snarled.

"Fine," he said calmly. "But you ought to tell your agent. If he had known, he would not have booked you for this."

The heck of it was, Piggy thought, he was right. She had told Bernie all about her preferences, her expectations for compensation, and all the other details she believed he would need to manage her career. But she had never told him specifically to refuse all offers from childrens' pageants. She had not told anybody about her past as a pageant child; it was a part of her life she wanted to forget. And she had, until some magazine had dug up and printed a bunch of those old photos. And now it was being treated as a part of her career! She had been brushing off questions and offers ever since it had come to light. She hadn't thought Bernie would sign her to a show like this no matter how much they were offering…which was a _lot_.

Beanes watched as she went over all of this in her mind. She had an expressive face; she went through a lot of emotions before looking back at him and saying, "How about getting me a jury duty summons?"

He laughed. "Sorry, Miss Piggy. You may be the only person in history who has said that. No, I can't; it's actually easier to get out of jury service than it is to get into it."

"Yeah, I figured," she muttered. Why did Lady Gaga get a 'get out of jail free' card when it was Piggy who needed it? "Well, all right. I'll do their stinkin' show. They want Miss Piggy, they'll get it, all right!"

Alarmed, Beanes said, "Miss Piggy—be careful of your image. They are just little girls, after all."

She had to pause to think about what he meant. She hadn't been referring to the children. Then she smiled sweetly and said, "Moi, take it out on those dear children? I'd never dream of such a thing! After all, I was in their shoes once. I will give them the guidance I wish I had at their age."

"So, you will meet the obligations in this contract?"

She said, "Do I have a choice? Yes, I will, and I will bring that special _je ne sais quoi_ that only Miss Piggy has to their show." He brushed her hair back, then smiled winningly. "Trust me."

Uneasily he smiled back. They were definitely going to get Miss Piggy. More that they could handle, he suspected.

* * *

Miss Piggy composed herself during the cab ride to the studio. They wanted a diva to teach little girls how to be divas? Maybe that's what they were expecting, but Miss Piggy had also read the contract over, and it specified that she would be the pageant mentor for those children, but not _how_ she would mentor them. That was up to her. There were possibilities here.

* * *

When she stepped out of the cab at the studio, she suddenly felt cold. She was going to go back to a place—not a place, a situation—that reached deep into her childhood memories. They began to come to the surface. Wearing shoes that pinched her feet into pleasing shapes. Hours of boredom while her hair was being done, and then not being able to play because that would ruin her hairdo. All the other girls who, though they were the same age and should have been friends and playmates, were her rivals. The time, she had only been six, when her mother had slapped her hand for taking off her glove and eating a chocolate. She had taken the glove off to avoid dirtying it, but her mother had shouted at her for dirtying her lipstick and exposing her hand. Her hands must always be covered; her black, hooflike fingernails made her look like she belonged on a farm.

The memories hit her with shocking force. She summoned all her self-control, entered the studio wearing a bright, brittle smile, announced herself to the receptionist, and excused herself to visit the ladies' room.

She looked into the mirror. The face she saw was flushed, her eyes watery, as if she was ready to cry. What for? All of that happened years and years ago! There had been good times too. She told herself that, and called to mind the struts across the stage wearing winners' tiaras or ribbons or carrying bouquets. The way people cheered for her when she won. The celebrations with her mother, and her father when he had been alive. But behind those memories were the other, uglier ones, eager to play themselves out all over again.

Well, she told herself angrily, all that happened. And it had hurt. And it had made her stronger! She had been tender then, but she was a professional now. She could do this. And it couldn't be as bad as she remembered it, she told herself. She had been so young then. Little kids could hardly be objective observers.

She looked herself in the eye. The woman in the mirror was tough. She could handle a silly miniseries like this. What was she afraid of? Children in makeup? This is show business, not a docudrama. They were all here to put on an act for the cameras.

She stood up straight, gave herself a determined nod, and walked out.

* * *

There were a half-dozen people to talk to first. Administrators, flunkies, all those people who do things offstage. She met them with a cheery, masklike smile, and charmed them all. She would be delighted to mentor those lovely, talented children. And they were thrilled to be working with Miss Piggy, who could do so much more than teach them to be pretty faces. They wanted her to bring her own spin to the show. She would have complete creative freedom, within the constraints of the budget, of course. But the budget was generous. She smiled and remembered everything they said.

The business dealings out of the way, Miss Piggy was escorted to the green room. They were not filming yet; she would just meet the children and their parents. She walked in with a bright smile. There were six girls, all wearing unchildlike dresses, makeup, and elegant hairdos, each with a parent. Her smile froze.

* * *

All characters except Miss Tamworth are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted characters are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Miss Tamworth is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	5. Chapter 5

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 5: Where Does That Highway Lead To?**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was a busy afternoon in the Muppet Theater, and even more chaotic than usual. Faced with the sudden loss of their guest star, the Muppets were scrambling to put together the coming weekend's show. Some, like Fozzie, were working with their fellow Muppets for inspiration. Others, like the Electric Mayhem, were preparing acts that had already been in the backs of their minds. And some, like the Great Gonzo, had more ideas than they knew what to do with, and were offering them all in the hope that one or two might fall within the realm of feasibility.

Kermit and Scooter had enough to do sorting out the logistics of the show, not to mention changing the advertisements and other promotional materials and a metric myriad of other details. Kermit went to his office to take care of those issues, and Scooter stayed at the desk backstage right. He received the pitches for acts, which came in the form of scripts, skits or songs to watch, and "Get a load of this!" summaries. As he reviewed each one he added it and his notes to one of three paperclipped stacks.

That took up all of the morning. Gonzo alone had spent over an hour presenting his ideas because Scooter let him go through the entire spiel for each one rather than cutting him short the way Kermit often did. Even if the acts he proposed were unsuitable, unworkable, or simply insane, his pitches were always entertaining. When, several hours later, Scooter looked up from his paperwork and realized that nobody was trying to get his attention, he grabbed up his papers and hustled over to Kermit's office. He went in and closed the door behind himself. Kermit looked up. Scooter said, "How's it going, boss?"

"Good. I can't do anything about the ads that have already been printed, and they didn't like changing the ones that haven't, but it'll be done."

"Great. Oop, there's canceling the travel arrangements I made for Gaga. I'll do that ASAP," Scooter said.

"So how are the acts coming along?"

"Not too bad. I've sorted them into three categories. Got a few that I think are keepers." He laid a thin stack on Kermit's desk. "Then there's the maybes." He put a thicker stack down. "And finally, 'Um….'" He put down the thickest stack.

"That's pretty good, considering," Kermit said. "Anything I need to deal with right now?"

"Not really, unless you want to."

"Well, give me the highlights."

"Sure. One of the keepers is Bobby Benson's Baby Band. He wanted to get on the show again, so I called him up and asked him to come up with an act. He already had one ready. Have you heard _Let's Get it Started_ by the Black Eyed Peas?"

"Yeah." Kermit recalled the video he'd seen some years back. He remembered it as being nonsensical and chaotic…in a way that he could see on their stage, especially performed by a bunch of babies. "I like the idea. Better check the lyrics, though."

"He already had that covered. He's tweaked the lyrics. He gave 'em to me over the phone, he was that eager. He's coming in tomorrow. I think we can do some great stuff with the staging if we get on it early."

"Don't smash too many pianos."

"We've got a lot of old breakaway props left over from Newsman skits if we go that route. But I dunno, it might frighten the babies. Oh, and Sam wants to do an editorial."

They exchanged glances. Sam's lectures were dull, but they added variety to the show, and made the other acts look more entertaining by comparison. And if ever they could afford to give Sam a few minutes, it was now. Kermit said, "Put him down. How about Piggy? I haven't seen her around."

"I wouldn't bet on her, Kermit," Scooter said. "Her agent signed her onto a miniseries. It's filming this week."

"She told me her lawyer was going to get her out of it."

"I called his office a few minutes ago. He couldn't; the contract was too tight. She was _miffed."_

"Yeesh!" Kermit put his hands to what would be his forehead if he had one. "Why _now?"_

"It's only filming for a week. Too bad it had to be _this_ week. And she's got a good number in next week's show," Scooter pointed out.

"Yeah, there's that. Anything else?"

"Nope. I'm still getting acts together. Once I have a good stack I'll be after you, don't worry."

Scooter returned to the backstage desk. Miraculously, there were no people or notes awaiting him. He called their travel agent and canceled the airline, taxi, and hotel arrangements he had made. That out of the way, he went through the backstage crossing to the other side. Janken was at the console, glancing around between several monitors. Most of them showed the stage from various angles. One was aimed at the wall the audience would see to the left of the stage. The one he was paying most attention to was showing an internet video. Scooter said, "Jan."

Janken looked up, then took out his ear buds. "Hi. How's it going?"

"Some good, some bad. We'll have a show, but Miss Piggy won't be in it."

"Ew. Not good."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Oh, let me show you something. I've been playing with the screen setup we talked about-"

Scooter laid a hand on Janken's shoulder. "Show me later, huh? It's lunchtime. Let's get outta here."

Surprised, Janken turned in his seat to face Scooter. Scooter said, "Right now nobody's trying to show me an act or pester me with details. How long do you think that's going to last? Let's git while the gittin's good."

Janken smiled. Scooter had promised he'd make time for their lunch date. Janken had been expecting Scooter to discover he had to postpone it—the show must go on!—and was pleasantly startled when he didn't. "I'm ready. Just gimme a minute." He began locking the console.

Scooter saw a familiar logo on the screen showing videos. "TEDx Tacoma?"

"Yeah. I've been watching TED videos in between 'film our rehearsal' requests. There's some good stuff."

"Yep. C'mon."

* * *

For lunch they went to a nearby deli that was a favorite for both of them. Scooter liked their sandwiches, and it had a salad bar that Janken could crawl into and live happily for a week. After they ate they went to a jeweler's that Dr. Teeth, the Muppets' resident expert on digital adornment, had recommended. Scooter hoped that he wouldn't regret asking his advice.

They entered. Janken's first impression was one of shininess and wood. Everything was either a rich brown surface or polished metal. In the cases, the gems' sparkle was larger than the actual stones. He was intimidated. 'Bling' was not his style.

Scooter was taken aback as well. He was looking around, trying to decide if he wanted to walk out again, when one of the staff—he was too well dressed to call a clerk—said, "Scooter and Janken?"

A Muppet fan? He didn't know whether to call that a stroke of luck or not. "Yes."

"A friend of yours called this morning to tell me to take good care of you," he said with a smile.

Oh. "Dr. Teeth?"

"One of our best customers," he affirmed. "My name is Charles. What may I show you?"

The two Muppets were nervous, even a little shy. Charles had seen this many times before: a couple, not yet comfortable being known as such, who had never bought rings of any significance before. He treated them as any other new customer by keeping his observations to himself and helping them find what they wanted. He could tell by the look in a person's eyes when they saw something they liked; he knew it even before they did, and was able to guide them accordingly.

Scooter was surprised at how smoothly it went. Charles made very few suggestions after showing them several trays of samples; he seemed to intuitively understand what they wanted. It was if they led him to the ones they liked rather than the other way around. They found a pair of gold bands with similar engraved designs. He measured their fingers—Scooter wore a size 4, and Janken 4.5—and went into the back. Scooter and Janken exchanged glances, then grinned. Scooter looked pleased with himself, yet still a little nervous. Janken wasn't surprised. He put his hand over Scooter's and gave it a warm squeeze.

The clerk came back and brought them the rings. They tried them on. Scooter liked how it looked and felt on his hand. He said, "Yeah," and looked at Janken.

The Fraggle was looking at the gold metal against his purple skin. It was quite a contrast. But it felt comfortable. It was thin enough that it didn't feel weird when he pressed his fingers together. When Scooter nudged him he looked over. "Huh?"

"What do you think?"

"I like it."

"Me too. Shall we get 'em?"

"Yeah."

Scooter had researched prices beforehand. These were within what he was prepared to pay. The rest of the transaction was carried out discreetly, and they left with the rings on their fingers.

As they left Janken raised his hand again. The sunlight made a spark on the yellow metal. Scooter asked softly, "What're you thinking?"

"Shiny gold on purple. People will spot this across the room," Janken said.

"Yeah, it shows more on you than it does on me."

Janken lowered his voice. "As for what else I'm thinking, you've got a big kiss coming up at the right time."

"At the right time," Scooter agreed, and they grinned at each other.

* * *

Miss Piggy froze for a moment. Then her mask snapped into place. She sang out, "Hello, everybody! _Moi_ is here."

There were a half-dozen little girls there. Each was made up to look like a little starlet. Piggy thought the effect was grotesque. Each girl was with her mother, except the one who was with her father. Piggy wanted to shout at them, ask them why on earth they wanted to force their children to be miniature, phony adults. But there were live cameras here. This was a reality show, and they'd be filming every single thing. She wasn't going to begin by throwing a ratings-boosting hissy in front of these poor kids. So, she took the chair that was obviously meant for her and said, "I'm sure you know all about _moi_. So, tell me about _vous."_

A bird spoke up. Her dress was all adornments, and her hair was streaked with color, making her look like a bird of paradise. After a moment Miss Piggy recognized her as a cockatoo. "My name is Tessie. I want to grow up to be a model. I've already started. This year I was in a _Jean Zerpance_ Little Miss fashion show." She smiled triumphantly. Her mother did too.

Miss Piggy nodded. She looked at the girl to her left, a kitten with amazingly fluffy fur. "I'm Molly," she said in a very sweet voice. She walked up and, looking up at her with big blue eyes, held out a hand shyly. Miss Piggy recognized the 'adorable little doll' act; she had use it herself when she was a young piglet. Piggy shook her hand, wondering how deep that act went. Not too deep, she hoped; it made her teeth ache.

The next three—a spaniel named Kate, a beribboned pink monster named Julie, and a sheep named Duffy, seemed much the same to Piggy: little girls who would have been much more appealing if they weren't trying so hard to impress her with how grown-up they were. She was gracious to them all; it wasn't their fault their parents were doing this to them.

The last one, however, surprised her. She was a lizard, and apparently her hairstylist and makeup artist had wisely not tried to mitigate the fact. Her skin was scaly, her eyes yellow and bulgy, and she had a long tail that ended in an incongruous spiral poking out from underneath her skirt. She stepped forward—she was the one who had come in with her father—and said, "I'm Pepper. I didn't think I'd be chosen for this show, but when I heard you were going to teach us, I _had_ to try. Thank you!"

"You're welcome, dear," Piggy said. This was the only girl who didn't simper at her. Or maybe Piggy just didn't recognize a lizard simper. She had probably been selected for variety's sake, the oddball of the bunch. Well, never mind, if she made it this far she must have _something_ going for her. Piggy would find out what.

* * *

Miss Piggy, Kermit the Frog, and Scooter are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. All other characters are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	6. Chapter 6

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 6: Time Isn't After Us**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was late afternoon at the Muppet Theater. People were still working on the weekend's show. Scooter had tentatively okayed several acts, subject to Kermit's approval, and set aside a few others that they might use if the going got tough. Gonzo had been brainstorming hard; he had thrown four more pitches at Scooter. Scooter had noted them all. Kermit wouldn't approve any, but it'd be fun to see what he had to say about them.

So far no story lines had presented themselves. Well, that was no cause for alarm, even though the plan was to film them before the show and project the videos in between stage acts. Once they got the acts on the slate, the rest would fall into place. And if it didn't, shoot, _that_ could be the story.

Scooter sat back in the chair. He wasn't getting anything much done now. He had hit the wall with regard to sorting chaos into order. He could present the latest batch of acts to Kermit, but the boss was likely to be as tired as his go-fer was now. The best time to show him new pitches would be tomorrow morning, Scooter decided.

* * *

Janken looked up when the intercom spoke. "Jan, is anyone using the handheld cam?"

"No. Need it?"

"Yeah. Bring it over here, would you?"

"Sure."

Janken picked up the aforementioned camera, checked to make sure its settings were correct, then crossed behind the stage to backstage right. Scooter said, "Let's do a reality show."

"Huh?"

"Humor me, willya?" Scooter said with a grin. Janken answered by raising the camera to his shoulder and looking through the eyepiece. Scooter said, "Here we are with an exclusive behind-the-scenes peek at the upcoming season of _The Muppet Show_. Come with me."

Janken followed him as he went back to an old upright piano which was kept charmingly out of tune. Scooter asked Rowlf, who was seated at the bench, "So, what're you doing?"

The dog responded, "Same as always, tickling the ivories." He played a dramatic sting, which was spoiled by a giggle. Rowlf did a double-take.

Scooter deadpanned, "I see. Well, moving along, let's see what's happening onstage."

* * *

Miss Piggy entered the theater. She wished she could lose herself in the silliness that was the Muppets' lot in life. Right now she didn't have enough spirit. Quietly she went up the stairs to her dressing room.

Scooter saw her worryingly discreet entrance and exit. He said to Janken, "Camera off." Janken nodded and thumbed the switch. Scooter took his cell phone out of his pocket. After a moment he said in a very low voice, "Kermit, Miss Piggy's here. She looks really down." Pause. "In her dressing room. Yeah. Okay."

* * *

Miss Piggy was sitting at her makeup table, starting moodily into the mirror, when she heard a tap at the door. "Who is it?" she called.

"It's me. Kermit."

She got up and went to the door. Opening it, she said, "Oh, Kermit. _Entrez-vous."_

He came in, and heard the click of the lock when she closed the door behind him. He asked, "How did it go today?"

"Oh, well, you know. I'm sorry this silly business had to be _this_ week. I feel just _terrible_ about leaving you without a strong female lead."

"Don't worry, we'll get by for a week." He saw a flash of annoyance in the tightening of her mouth. "What show are you doing?"

She looked at him for a long moment. Then she drew in a deep breath and let it out again. "_Teeny Weeny Queenies."_

"I haven't heard of that one. What's it about?" The moment he finished the question he realized the answer. "Oh, no."

"Yeah," she said gruffly. "It's a beauty pageant for little girls, six to eight. I must mentor six adorable little divas-to-be through the contest."

Miss Piggy had confided in him about that part of her life. Her memories were not happy ones. She had never publicly mentioned that part of her career, and it would have passed unknown if a magazine hadn't found and printed a bunch of her childhood photographs. It had opened old wounds. "Oh, no. Piggy, I'm sorry," he said earnestly.

"Well, you know, these things happen. And they're paying through the nose for me," she said, trying to sound flippant.

"Uh-huh."

"It's a piece of cake. I just have to serve as inspiration for those girls. Encourage them…" Her mask cracked. "Oh, Kermie…"

He took her hand. "I'm here."

"You don't know what it's like, seeing them all dressed like mini-grownups in their heels and dresses and makeup, trying to impress me by acting phony. They've forgotten how to be little girls!"

"Uh-huh," he said, squeezing her hand.

"It made me so mad! I wanted to give them a karate demonstration. Using everyone making the show as practice dummies. And their _parents_…!"

"It must feel terrible," Kermit told her.

His expression gentle, his eyes looked steadily and sympathetically into hers. "It does," she replied sadly. He was the only one she would open up to. The only one who would understand.

"What're you going to do?" he asked. His thumb stroked the palm of her hand.

She looked away and drew in a breath. Then she said firmly, "What I do best. I'm strong. I'm a pro. I'm stuck in a contract. I'm gonna do their stinkin' show and then I'm gonna throttle Bernie!"

"What are you going to do for the kids?"

He was asking the same question she had been asking herself. "I don't know. If I had my way they wouldn't be there at all!"

"Piggy…Maybe you do have something to teach them. You know what it's like to be in their shoes. You can do more than just show them how to put on eyeliner."

She looked at him for a long moment. Then she turned away, back toward the mirror, to reach for a tissue. It was a bit of a stretch to get to the box without taking her hand from Kermit's. She dabbed her eyes and said, "I don't know."

He asked, "What do you wish someone had told _you_ back then?"

She dabbed at her eyes again, then pulled the tissue box over and grabbed several in one handful. This was more than a one-Kleenex issue.

Kermit realized that he had struck a nerve. He hadn't meant to make this worse for her than it already was. She sat there, making little choking sounds, trying to hold it in. She shouldn't have to do that for him. He leaned forward and put his arms around her, whispering "Let it out." She leaned into his embrace as if needing him for support. She pressed her face into where his shoulder would be and squeezed her eyes closed. He felt the spasms of half-restrained sobs. Within moments she was crying in earnest. Not the photogenic tears that she sometimes used to get her way, but messy crying, the kind that comes from deep within and can't be restrained.

Kermit pressed his cheek to hers and stroked her hair with one hand. She could cry on him all she wanted if it was what she needed. And he had the feeling that she was overdue for this by several decades.

* * *

That evening the Muppets were winding down. The engines of their creativity had run strong all day, and now it was time to fall back and refuel. Miss Piggy emerged from her dressing room with Kermit. Scooter, who had known better—_much_ better—than to interrupt them, looked over to gauge their mood. They were very close, arm in arm. Together rather than just walking in the same direction. That was good. Miss Piggy's makeup looked fresh, too, as if she had just applied it. He decided not to notice that her eyes were a little pink. He said, "Hi, boss. I've got something to show you."

"Oh, what is it?" Kermit asked

"We did a video. I wanted to see what you think. C'mon over."

Scooter led Kermit and Piggy over to Janken's console. "Jan, roll film."

"Sure thing." Janken tapped a few keys. On one of the monitors a familiar set appeared. "This is a Muppet News Flash. Dateline: Muppet Studios. The Muppets are getting ready for their season premiere. We have exclusive footage-" His narration was cut short by an avalanche of shoes.

It was a montage of Muppets working on their acts, or cleaning up backstage, or eating in the canteen, or anything else they felt like doing in front of a camera, edited together to give the impression of a movie trailer. It culminated in a chase scene through the theater and up into the fly space to the tune of _Yakety Sax._ When it was finished Scooter explained, "I started this out just as a goof, but soon everyone got into the act. What do you think?"

"Looks like you guys went crazy. Why don't you upload that? It could be worth some Internet buzz."

Scooter glanced at Janken, who tapped the Enter key and said, "Done."

Amused, Kermit remarked, "Gee, if I didn't know better I'd think that's what you had in mind all along."

Scooter raised his hand to his forehead in a three-fingered salute. "Be prepared, that the Boy Scouts' solemn creed," he quoted.

Miss Piggy noticed a flicker on his hand. When he lowered it again, she saw that he was wearing a ring. She glanced at Janken's hands and saw that he had one as well. Surprised, she said, "How long have you two been wearing rings?"

Scooter asked, "What time is it?"

Janken glanced at the time display on his console. "About eight hours." He turned in his seat. "We got them at lunch today, Miss Piggy."

"Oh! Are you _engaged?"_

Scooter laughed. "We just gave each other rings because we wanted to."

"Well, that's a very good reason," she said, and glanced at Kermit.

Normally this would have been his cue to flinch. But her smile was not forced. There was nothing bitter in her manner, no subtext. Rings were nice, but right now the thin-fingered green hand in hers was much more precious.

* * *

Soon the Muppets were gathering at the bus to go back to the boarding house. Cheerfully Janken said, "Grab your bike. Let's go out."

Scooter had been hoping that Janken wouldn't make that suggestion. He said, "I'm afraid I have to go through these acts, figure out which ones are feasible and how long they'll last and stuff, while I have the quiet time to really focus."

Disappointed, Janken said, "Aw, tonight?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry. This isn't the week for me to let things slide."

"Well…okay. I'll take a rain check."

"Thanks, Jan. I'll make it up."

Janken gave him a short but sincere kiss, then held his eyes with an intense gaze that said that he'd better not wait too long.

Dr. Teeth, already seated in the bus, watched them through the window. Their mission of the noontide had been an unassailable success, he saw. Well, no wonder; he had called ahead and suggested that his friends be treated with utter tact and discretion, qualities that their fine establishment possessed in abundance and of which the illustrious Doctor had never required.

* * *

All characters except Janken Fraggle are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted characters are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	7. Chapter 7

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 7: You May Ask Yourself**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

Janken rode his bicycle from the Muppet theater to a bar he had recently discovered. The people here came to hang out and have fun. He'd made friends here. After spending all day at the Muppet theater, it was nice to go someplace where everybody knows your name but not your job.

He chained his bicycle to a rack which was already occupied by a pair of motorcycles and entered. He sat at the bar, where it was easier to start conversations, and said to the bartender, "Hi, Travis. I'd like the usual."

"Bloody Virgin Mary, sure thing."

The barkeep was getting out some tomato juice and tabasco sauce when someone said, "Hey, Janken."

He turned and greeted a human woman. "Hi, Monica. How's it going?"

"Pretty good. Say, do you work at the library?"

"I volunteer there sometimes. Why?"

"My daughter said someone did a reading for the kids a few days ago. When she said he was small and purple and had a big nose I thought of you."

He chuckled. "It must have been. Last weekend I read some of Kipling's _'Just So' Stories_."

"Why do you do that?" she asked, interested.

The bartender placed a drink in front of Janken that looked like iced blood with celery and pickles and a straw sticking out of it. Janken said "Thanks," to him and then replied to her, "I like telling stories. And I have a pair of little sisters. I miss them, but being around kids makes it easier. So, are you going to go up tonight?"

"Maybe. How about you?"

"Maybe."

The bartender put a stapled printout on the bar in front of them. Monica said, "Thanks. So, Janken, I will if you will."

"I'll think about it," he replied with a smile.

She sniffed in mock exasperation and went back to her booth, taking the printout. Janken sipped his drink. Good and spicy, like tomato juice with a bite. And Travis had given him extra celery. Good; he liked a snack.

Before long the lights went up on a small stage on one side of the bar. Many of the patrons turned to look at what served as a stage: an area free of seating that had a microphone, a monitor, and a big TV on the back wall. One of the bar staff got up and spoke into the microphone, "First up, Monica and Lisa."

The aforementioned women came up to the stage and crowded the microphone. After a moment a video appeared on the big television. As the intro to a song played they stared at the monitor, waiting for their cue.

Janken watched, smiling, as they sang a song about...well, he wasn't sure; a lot of pop songs didn't make sense to him. It could be because he lacked the cultural background to understand them, but he suspected that some of them were pretty much gibberish. The people who sang karaoke here were often not very good at it. But they were singing! Many Silly Creatures didn't sing at all, but when they came here they might take a chance for once. Sure, it was usually just for laughs, but shouldn't singing be fun? And it comforted Janken to be around people who weren't musically inclined. He was an anomaly, a Fraggle with dire stage fright. But he had come here and given it a go. His first attempt had been awful–he remembered very little about it because he had been so nervous–but nobody had cared. That had encouraged him to come back and try again, and by now he was a regular enough patron that the bartender knew what to serve him.

* * *

A small man wearing a nondescript vest, shirt, and jeans and a pair of dark glasses entered the bar. He had an aimless, rather sloppy look about himself, but he was more alert than he appeared. He considered leading people to underestimate him to be a professional skill.

One side of the bar had made for people his size. Today one of the stools was occupied by–well, he didn't know just what it was at first, except that it was an animal of some sort. Purple, with a long tail that wagged in time with the song that a pair of women were butchering. Huh. Usually he could come in here and be by himself for a while, maybe people-watch for inspiration when he was stuck for ideas. Oh well. He went over to the bar and said, "You mind?"

Janken glanced over and saw someone with dark pink skin, John Lennon glasses, and a mop of pale hair. "Mind what?"

"Mind if I sit here," he said, glancing at the stool next to him.

"Oh, no, go ahead."

The purple creature's voice and profile were familiar. He'd have it in a second. He said, "Come here often?"

"No, just once or twice a week on karaoke nights," Janken replied. "I haven't seen you here before."

"I usually come here when they're not having karaoke."

Janken chuckled. "Not your cup of tea, eh?"

"Nope." The bartender came over, and he said, "Irish coffee."

Janken said, "Travis–" He handed over a folded slip of paper.

Travis opened it and glanced at what was written within, then said, "I might've guessed."

"Yeah, I'm predictable," Janken said with a grin, and took a sip of his drink.

The small man was staring at Janken through the side of his sunglasses. He knew he had seen this weird-looking guy somewhere before. Now it was going to bother him until he remembered where. He wore a jean jacket that looked like it had come from the toddler's section of Old Navy, and a ring. The first item was not memorable and the second didn't jog his memory.

The women finished. The patrons applauded, and they took exaggerated bows and left the stage, laughing at their own incompetence. As the next name was announced the women looped past the bar. Janken raised his drink in salute to them. Monica said, "Well, what did you think?"

"That's the best cover of _My Sharona_ I've ever heard," he answered.

She feigned offense. "That was _Bad."_

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself," Janken replied.

Both women giggled. Monica asked, "So, when're you going up?"

Janken shrugged casually. "Who said I am?"

"Oh, _right_. See ya."

As the women went back to their seats it clicked in the man's mind. Of course! Where else would you expect to find a pint-sized purple monster? He said, "I just remembered where I've seen you before. _The Muppet Show_, right?"

Janken nodded. "Yeah. I do cameras."

"Wow. Never thought I'd meet a Muppet here."

Janken replied amiably, "We all have to unwind. I found this place a little while ago, and I got hooked on karaoke."

"No kidding. Don't you get enough of singing at the theater?"

"This is different. It's not professional. It's just for fun. I like that."

"Huh." He didn't know what to say to that.

"Anyway, I'm Janken. What's your name?"

"I'm called Fleet."

"Good to meet you, Fleet." They shook hands. "What's your job?"

"I write a little."

"Nice. I tried to be a storyteller myself, but I didn't have the knack. Must be neat."

Storytelling? Well, you could call it that. Noticing that Janken's drink was nearly finished, he said, "Here, let me get you another."

Janken said, "Um, Fleet, you're nice, but I'm spoken for, if that's what's on your mind."

Startled, Fleet said, "Hey, whoa! I'm not queer!"

Calmly Janken explained, "I didn't say you were. It's all right, I just didn't want there to be any misunderstandings."

"Okay. Just caught me by surprise there," Fleet said.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to."

Change the subject _now,_ Fleet thought. "What's it like, working on that show?"

"It's a lot of work. That's show biz, you know. But anyone nuts enough to get themselves into a job like mine is nuts enough to love it."

"There must be a lot of-"

One of the staff called out, "Janken. Janken Fraggle."

Janken looked up. "That's me. 'Scuse me."

"Sure."

Janken hopped down from the bar stool and went up to the stage. He disappeared between the Silly Creature-sized tables before reaching the stage, where they had placed a platform for him to stand on. As the intro played he said into the microphone, "This would be for my 'special someone,' who is working late and isn't here to hear it. Doesn't it figure?" Then he began singing,

"Some people stay far away from the door  
If there's a chance of it opening up.  
They hear a voice in the hall outside  
And hope that it just passes by.

Some people live with the fear of a touch  
And the anger of having been a fool.  
They will not listen to anyone,  
So nobody tells them a lie.

I know you're only protecting yourself.  
I know you're thinking of somebody else.  
Someone who hurt you–  
But I'm not above  
Making up for the love  
You've been denying you could ever feel.  
I'm not above doing anything  
To restore your faith if I can.  
Some people see through the eyes of the old  
Before they ever get a look at the young.  
I'm only willing to hear you cry  
Because I am an innocent man."

Fleet listened, paying more attention to Janken's voice than the lyrics. He had a very good singing voice. He sang the song as if it really meant something to him rather than being just another pop song. With talent like that he ought to be on the stage. Why was he stuck behind a camera? And he's gay. He has to be, otherwise he'd have said he was straight rather than he was spoken for. And he didn't flinch when he heard my name. This was _very _interesting.

He waved the bartender over, then pointed at Janken's glass and said, "Another of the same for both of us, on my tab."

Fleet received his second Irish coffee and sipped the hot beverage while watching Janken sing. _An Innocent Man? There's no such thing_, he thought.

* * *

Fleet Scribbler is copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _An Innocent Man_ is by Billy Joel. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story, and maybe Travis and Monica if it's worth considering them characters. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	8. Chapter 8

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 8: ****Behind the Wheel of a Large Automobile**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was the second day of filming for _Teeny Weeny Queenies_. It was not quite as difficult for Piggy to go in, now that she knew what she was facing. She and Kermit—dear Kermie!—had had a long, emotional talk the night before. Somehow he had drawn out of her things that she had known but had not let herself think about, how seeing these girls and their parents reached back into the worst memories of her childhood. But she was not powerless this time, she was not her mother's pawn, living out her mother's fantasies. And maybe these girls were in that situation, but then again maybe they weren't. Maybe they really did want to be stars.

Thinking about it that way made things much clearer to her. If these girls wanted to go for it, they ought to have a chance to show the world what they have! Piggy could open doors for them, with a karate kick if necessary. Oh, it would derail the show, but she would feel no guilt about that. Taking a cue from Gonzo, she had studied the contract very thoroughly to figure out what she could get away with.

* * *

The studio people welcomed Piggy and waved her to the sound stage. They didn't suggest she visit the makeup artist; her agent had informed them that she was quite capable of taking care of her own beauty, and to suggest otherwise would be considered less than friendly. She did drop by her dressing room to change out of her street clothes. She knew she was a knockout in a well-cut blouse, designer jeans, and tasteful sandals, but she did make some concessions.

When she walked onto the sound stage the girls were all there in their pretty clothes. She noticed with relief that the formalwear competition seemed to be over; they were wearing dresses that wouldn't be out of place for children of their age in the real world, and the makeup had been dialed down several notches. Smiling, she said, "Hello, girls!"

They chorused back like schoolchildren, "Hello, Miss Piggy."

She sat down and said, "Before we start the show, let's just talk for a few minutes. I know your names and the talents you want to use on the show. But what do you want to be when you grow up?"

Most of the girls glanced around, surprised. They didn't look at each other; they were looking offstage, where the cameras and their parents were. Piggy said sweetly, "Cameras off, please."

Someone who appeared to think she was directing the show said, "Miss Piggy, we don't want to miss anything."

Piggy repeated, "I said, cameras _off. __**Please."**_

The director nodded unwilling confirmation to the camera operators. The red lights on the machines blinked out. Piggy said to the girls, "Now, it's just _vous_ and _moi."_

The cockatoo with the brightly-colored hair said haughtily. "I want to be a model all my life. I'm already a model."

Some of the other girls rolled their eyes, and Miss Piggy didn't find Tessie's attitude any more winsome than they did. But that was neither here nor there. She said, "You have quite a head start, Tessie. Next?"

The sheep—Duffy, Piggy remembered—said, "I want to be on TV."

"What do you want to do on TV?" Miss Piggy asked encouragingly.

Duffy looked over to her mother for help. Her mother tapped her lips, and Duffy said, "I want to sing," with a bright smile.

_Your mother wants you to sing_, Piggy mentally translated. "Good. Next?"

After a pause Pepper, the lizard, said, "I want to be in shows, but I'm not sure what I'm going to be best at. I'm taking dance classes and piano, and I like to sing too."

The other girls glanced between themselves. They clearly didn't think much of Pepper, who was by far the least attractive of the bunch. But she was going to have exactly the same chance as the others, Piggy decided. She said, "All that? That's wonderful. Molly?"

The kitten, who was the stillest and quietest of the bunch, said in a small voice, "I don't know."

"Do you have any ideas? Anything you'd like to be?" Miss Piggy said gently, trying to draw her out. Molly shook her head. "Well, that's all right. I didn't know what I was going to be when I was your age either."

"I'm going to dance," said Kate, a spaniel with ribbons on her ears that make them look like pigtails. "I can dance like in the videos."

Julie, the bubblegum-pink Monster, said, "I dance too. Kate and I dance together."

"We're a team."

"Yeah."

Now that Piggy thought about it, the two girls were dressed to go together. The Monster was wearing orange, the same color as Kate's fur, and Kate had on a pink dress, and their ribbons matched. Their voices even went well together. What happened if a competition came down to the two of them? Piggy didn't want to think about that. She said, "That's great. Now, today we're going to take a field trip!"

The girls exclaimed in surprise and excitement. The director looked annoyed. Piggy stood and said, _"Excusez-moi_ for a moment." She went over and said, "Get a limo or some cars or whatever you have for these girls and their parents. We're going out today."

"Miss Piggy, we're going to shoot today's show right here," the director said frantically.

Piggy said in a voice like a silken glove containing a steel fist, "No, dear, we _aren't_. We are going out. I have already made reservations. This show has a travel budget; it was in the contract. As was the requirement that I teach these children what I know, in _my own style_. So be helpful and get the cars warmed up while we change. Your camera crew is welcome to tag along, of course."

* * *

By the time Janken arrived at the Muppet Theater everyone else was already there. It didn't look like they'd shifted into high gear yet. He went over to his console backstage left. Scooter had left him a page full of handwritten notes. There was a list of acts that would have their tech rehearsals today; he'd be filming them so he could figure out how to light them and where to focus the cameras. The video they'd made yesterday had been picked up by the major fan sites and some other web pages, and was generating buzz among the fans. Janken unlocked the console and signed in. Then he glanced across the stage, saw Scooter at the desk on the other side, and tapped the intercom button. "Scooter, I'm here."

"Be right over."

Scooter picked up a clipboard and started across the stage. He made it partway before being smacked in the face by a whirling fish. Lew Zealand was practicing, so Scooter couldn't really complain; he was only taken unaware because the fish had been on its return arc. He picked it up and handed it to Lew, saying "The trainees are coming along."

"Oh, this is one of the pros! He's showing the others how it's done," Lew explained.

When Scooter reached the other side Janken wordlessly handed him a paper towel. Scooter wiped his face. "Thanks. See my notes?"

"Sure. Some acts are ready for tech rehearsal. I'm ready when they are."

"Here are the scripts." He handed several sets of stapled pages to Janken. The Fraggle would not be acting in them, but he would need them to take notes on. Janken took them and asked, "How about the backstage scenes?"

"I wish! We're not there yet." He put down the clipboard and leaned against the wall. "So, what'd you do for fun last night?"

"I went to the karaoke bar again."

"What'd you sing?"

_"An Innocent Man._ I was pretty good. I wish you'd been there."

"Me too. Once all this is over I promise I'll come with you. Did you only sing once?"

"Yeah. I met someone there, and we talked a while."

"Oh. Muppet fan?"

"Yeah. He looks like he could be a Muppet himself. I didn't recognize him or his name from any of the message boards, though. Fleet."

"Fleet?" Scooter asked, startled.

"Yeah. Sounds like a screenname, doesn't it?"

"What did he look like? About my size, skinny, light hair, dark round glasses? Really nosy?"

"Yeah, except he didn't have much of a nose. He did ask a lot of questions. Why?" Janken asked, wondering why Scooter looked alarmed.

"Jan, that's Fleet Scribbler. He is _not_ a friend. Don't talk to him."

"What?"

"Really, stay away from him—"

Quietly Janken said, "Scooter, are you telling me who I may not talk to?"

Scooter paused. Janken was easy to get along with, but he had a few hot buttons. Thankfully he gave Scooter clear warning before getting miffed. He said, "Lemme back up. Janken, he's a reporter. But he doesn't write reports, he writes gossip and lies for a rag called _The Daily Scandal_. Remember when Gonzo and Camilla wanted to get married a few years back but couldn't, and the question of whether she's a person or not was in the news?"

"You told me about that. That was before I joined up. I didn't read it myself."

"Yeah. Well, he wrote a smear article about Gonzo. Accusing him of…well, saying that he was messing around with his pets."

"As in, not-people animals?" Janken said in disbelief.

"Yeah. It was ugly. I'd make you read it yourself to show you what kind of person he is, but I shredded every copy I found. I hope Gonzo never saw it. And when Miss Piggy stopped talking to Fleet after he printed that, he did a smear on her saying she had had lipo and plastic surgery and junk. Doctored photos and everything."

Janken shook his head in disbelief. "Why would he say things like that?"

"Because that's his job! He writes trash for a trash paper. Think, Jan—did you tell him anything about us?"

"Us who?"

"Us anything!"

Janken held out a hand to Scooter. Scooter took it. Clasping Scooter's hand, Janken looked into his eyes and said, "Relax. He asked questions, but he just sounded like a curious fan. I didn't tell him anything about the show that isn't already out there. I did not talk about anyone else's lives because I don't talk about other people's lives. And I didn't tell him about us. I have more sense than to spill my guts to some random guy in a bar. _Believe_ that."

Scooter sighed. Janken squeezed his hand. Scooter said, "I'm sorry. You're right. It's just that, after all the grief he's caused us, I get flinchy when he comes around. Please, if you see him again, be _careful_ what you say."

"I understand. I will. Heh, I made him flinch."

"Really? How?"

"Well, he was being really friendly, and I thought he might have been coming on to me. So I told him that I was taken. He wasn't expecting that."

"I can imagine," Scooter said, grinning at the thought.

* * *

Soon several limousines and a studio bus pulled into an otherwise-empty parking lot. Miss Piggy, once again in her street clothes, stepped out of the first car. The girls and their parents got out of the others. As the film crew unloaded their equipment from the bus the director got up the nerve to ask, "Miss Piggy, what are we here for?"

"A skate party, of course. What else would you do at a roller rink?"

She stared the director down, silently daring her to protest. The director paused for a moment, then went over to the crew to give them their instructions.

Miss Piggy led the procession into the rink. Nobody else was there; she had rented it for a private party. "Everybody, go get your skates. They will have _clean_ ones for you. What are your favorite songs?"

Tessie said, "I like _Let's Get Excited_ by The Pointer Sisters."

Miss Piggy made a note. "That's a good one. Now, how about some more?"

* * *

She took one or two requests from each girl, added several of her own, and took the list to the manager while the girls were getting their skates. Piggy said, "Play these while we skate. No particular order, just put it on shuffle."

The manager looked down the list, then said, "We don't have all of these songs."

"Then download them," she said pleasantly. She turned away, ending the conversation.

Miss Piggy had her own skates. They were royal blue, and made especially for her. She hadn't worn them but a few times since the filming of _The Muppets Take Manhattan_, but when she put them on for a practice run earlier today her old reflexes came right back.

The girls had their skates on, laced good and tight, with help from their parents. They all looked eager, and even the parents were interested. Good! She stood before them, in full view of the cameras, and said, "Girls, you are about to see something that very few have witnessed." She paused dramatically, then said, "Me in flats."

The girls giggled. The cameras dipped toward her feet. She posed. _Get it all, guys!_ She said, "Now let's get out there. You know what to do!"

The girls got up, and most went right into the rink. Duffy hung back. Miss Piggy said, "Come on, don't be shy."

"Miss Piggy, I don't know how to skate," she said in a soft voice.

"Haven't you ever roller skated before?" Piggy asked, surprised. Duffy shook her head, blushing with embarrassment. "It's all right. I'll show you. We'll skate together."

She held out her hand. The lamb took it. Piggy stepped into the rink. Piggy said, "Just hold my hand at first. I'll pull you." The small hand was tight in hers as she started off very slowly, at the very edge of the rink.

* * *

The director watched in utter bafflement. What had happened? It was only the second part of the series and she had completely lost control. When they had given artistic freedom to Miss Piggy, they had no idea that she would take it and run for the hills. She knew better than to try to curb her, though. If Miss Piggy's manner hadn't made it clear that she would not tolerate interference, the polite but quick conversation between the network and Piggy's lawyers earlier today would have.

* * *

Duffy began to find her balance. She experimented a little, and found that turning her feet a little allowed her to move forward. This was exciting! Holding onto Piggy's hand for balance, she tried speeding up a little—and her foot slipped out from under her. She fell, and pulled Piggy down with her.

There was a gasp from all of the film crew, and all of the girls stared. Miss Piggy got to her knees and pushed her hair out of her face, muttering "There's one for the blooper reel." Duffy, flat on the floor, was nearly in tears. The girls skated over. Piggy saw her face and said, "Oh, dear, are you all right?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Piggy," she said, sniffling.

"Sorry? It's all right, I'm okay. How are you?"

"I'm-I'm not hurt. My wool protects me."

"Like a built-in pillow, huh?" Piggy said with a smile.

"Yeah."

"Well, since we're both okay, let's get up." She stood, and Duffy took her hand again.

Duffy said, "I won't fall again. I promise."

Piggy said, "So what if you do? When you try anything new, you take a chance of falling on your behind. But," She paused for effect, knowing that the girls surrounding them would get a giggle out of it, "so what? You'll get better at it. So don't worry. Let's have fun!"

* * *

The skate party went as Miss Piggy had hoped it would. The girls forgot about their rivalries and enjoyed themselves. Mostly; Kate and Julie made a point of showing off some trick skating. But when Pepper and Tessie got interested, they showed them how to do the same tricks. Interesting. Duffy and Piggy skated together, and Duffy slipped a few more times, but she didn't get so upset. Molly was content just to skate quietly and sedately around the rink by herself.

Now everyone was in the break area, eating pizza and chattering, cameras forgotten. Miss Piggy had gotten an idea in between pratfalls. She said in a conspiratorial tone, "Girls, listen. You know all about pageants. You put on makeup and fancy clothes and walk around looking pretty. You don't need me to show you how to do that. But there's a lot more to life than looking good. How'd you like to see what show biz is _really_ like?"

The girls exclaimed excitedly along the theme of "Yeah!" Piggy said, "Then tomorrow we'll take another field trip."

"You promise?" Molly said in her soft voice.

"Do you know what a pinkie promise is?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm making a Piggy promise, which is even better." On a whim she touched her snout and said "Oink oink."

The other girls burst into laughter. Molly touched her nose and said "Oink oink," and soon all the girls were doing it and laughing. Miss Piggy laughed with them.

If Miss Piggy had remembered that they were being filmed at that moment, she wouldn't have cared.

* * *

Miss Piggy, Kermit the Frog, Fleet Scribbler, and Scooter are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. All other characters are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	9. Chapter 9

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 9: Living in a Shotgun Shack**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was a typical day. Typical, unremarkable, routine, nothing special, he thought as he looked out the window. There wasn't much of a view, unless you liked other buildings. In a city apartment, if you wanted a view you hung a picture.

Fleet Scribbler poured a cup of coffee. Sipping it, he trudged to his computer, which was by the window of his living room. His home was a neat version of a bachelor pad, as he didn't have enough stuff to create much clutter. He simply wasn't in the habit of collecting things. When he got tired of a picture, a book, a piece of clothing, or whatever he simply donated it or otherwise got rid of it rather than keep it around. The area surrounding his computer, on the other hand, varied from neat to disaster area, depending on how intensely he had been following something. Notes and other items could pile up on the desk, under the edges of the monitor, on the arm of the adjacent sofa. Then, when he finished with the article he'd trash it all and move on. If anything was worth holding on to he'd file it away in a box, but very little he dealt with was of more than passing importance.

He typed in the password to unlock his computer. He had new E-mails, one from a message board he had visited last night. An answer to a question he'd posted. Great! He sat down, put down his coffee mug, and clicked on the subject line.

It was a note from an administrator, informing him that they did not allow discussion of people's personal lives in that forum, and his post had been deleted. He checked to see if there were any other replies before that one. None.

Oh well. It had been worth a try. He had sock puppet accounts on many fan message boards. Just about any subject he might have to research had a fan community somewhere. Under the guise of a fan he'd ask questions, making sure to phrase them to sound breathless and a bit silly. One thing about fans, they were pathetically eager to show off what they know. They weren't any more reliable a source than a wiki, but both were a good place to start. He'd asked on a Muppet fan board if the purple camera guy had a girlfriend. He had hoped that someone would reply before the administrators shut it down, because even though the thread was gone the reply would have been E-mailed to him.

Ah well, he wasn't going to waste brain sweat on this one. It's probably nobody in particular, and how many tabloid readers will give a flip if some nameless backstage Muppet is gay?

* * *

It had been a full day at the Muppet Theater. Full of tech rehearsals, mainly. People were getting their acts together, beating scripts and blocking and costuming and whatever else into shape, and Janken had recorded the run-throughs of these acts for final review and so he would be able to light and film them during the show.

Now some of the Muppets were watching the acts he had filmed on the large overhead monitor. They weren't vetting them so much as reassuring themselves that they were going to be ready for this weekend's show after all. They weren't worried about coming up empty, not really. They were Muppets; they could always put on a show! But after the last-minute loss of their guest star they had gone into overdrive to put together a show from scratch in a few days, and they were going to make it great, or at least memorable.

The scene currently on the monitor was of a bunch of babies bouncing in their cribs, doing infant acrobatics, and rapping in baby talk. Dr. Teeth chuckled, "This has the semblance of a mosh pit after someone liberally spiked the beverages with the elixir of the Fountain of Youth."

"It does, doesn't it," Rowlf said with a grin. They looked like they were having more fun than a litter of puppies with a slipper to play tug-of-war with.

Approvingly Kermit said, "That looks like it'll be a high point in the show."

The frog sounded more relaxed that he'd been in the past few days, Scooter noticed. "Yeah. I'll keep that in mind when I line up the acts. This one might be good right before intermission."

Billie, sitting on Gonzo's lap, pointed at the screen and said, "I want to do that, Dad."

Gonzo wasn't surprised. At three years old, Billie already had a taste for the stage. She'd made a few appearances when a baby bird had been called for. He said, "Maybe. It's their act."

"I'll ask them to share," she said.

Kermit said, "You know, the act could be bigger. Benson has six babies. What if their toys came to life too?"

Fozzie pictured this, and said "I like it! Would we be dressed as toys?"

Kermit explained, "Marvin Suggs has an act in this week's show too. We could use the Muppaphones. They already look like stuffed toys. They could bounce around in front of the cradles, like a mosh pit. Bean could be a stuffed bunny."

Bean said, "Aww, thanks. I'd make an _adorable_ plush toy. I wonder why I haven't been merchandised already."

Scooter asked, "Want me to run this by Benson?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Kermit answered.

He left the group of Muppets still brainstorming on the mosh pit and crossed to the dressing rooms. Benson's door was open. The room was crowded with the same cribs they had used on the stage, but they were now filled with tuckered-out babies. Bobo was rocking one of them in his arms; the babies had declared him an honorary teddy bear, and he was happy to carry out the associated duties.

* * *

Miss Piggy entered through the backstage door. There was a bit of noise going on, but it was all coming from the other side of the stage. They must be watching the rushes. She crossed over and laid a hand on Kermit's shoulder.

He looked over, then up. "Piggy!" She looked startlingly cheerful for someone who had just been filming a show she hated. "How did it go?"

"Much better," she said with a smile. "I want to have a word with you."

They were pretty much done with the rushes, and their brainstorming didn't need his supervision. "Sure. Let's go to my office."

"I was thinking of my dressing room," she countered.

"Er, ah…okay."

Scooter met them partway across the stage. He said, "Hi, Miss Piggy! Kermit, he loved the idea."

"Oh, good. I thought he would."

Piggy gave Scooter a look that said that whatever else he had to say could wait. Scooter decided that she was right. He went back to the left. The rushes done, the group was already starting to break up. They'd be on their way home soon. It had been a long day.

Janken handed Scooter a piece of paper. It had a few notes in Janken's peculiar, vertically-stretched writing. "There were some more ideas for the baby band number."

"Thanks." Scooter put the paper on his clipboard. "Still no ideas about the backstage story?"

"Yeah. I guess we don't really _need_ a backstage story for the stage show, but I was looking forward to using the side screen," Janken said wistfully.

"Yeah, well, maybe next week."

"Need anything else from me?"

"Nah, I'll take over here."

"I'll stay if you're staying."

"I'm gonna be making another evening of it, Jan. You don't have to. Go have some fun."

Janken sighed. "I understand."

"When all this is over, we're going to go do something, just us. That's a promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

They kissed. Then Janken got up out of the console seat, and Scooter took his place. Janken was just turning to leave when Scooter turned in the chair and said, "Um, Jan. When you come back, why not come to the house instead of going back to your place?"

Janken replied, "Will you be there? Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to sound-"

Scooter waved the impending apology away. "It's okay. It'll give me incentive to finish things up here."

"It's a date, then." Janken kissed him again, then walked over to where his bicycle was leaning against the wall, and wheeled it out the back door.

Sitting at the console, Scooter heard the chatter on the other side of the stage. Everyone else was getting ready to get on their bus to go home. Bobby Benson had a van; in his mind's eye Scooter could see Bobby and some of the larger Muppets bringing the Baby Band out in their carriers. Sweetums would have one in each hand.

Scooter sighed. He'd rather be going home too. He'd rather be with an affectionate, fun-loving Fraggle right now. But he had some things to do before they started up tomorrow. If he didn't have everything straightened out, then the others would get tangled up in the details and minutia and they wouldn't get to work on the actual acts. His job was to deal with the administrivia so they could focus on creativity.

Trouble was, right now his heart wasn't in it. He needed a break. He opened up a web browser and checked the bookmarks. In the lags between acts Janken liked to crawl the Web—"Feeding the Elephant's Child," he called it—and bookmark sites of interest. He had a folder named "Scooter" for links he meant to ask him about or wanted to show him. Might as well check that out, Scooter thought.

There were a few ones at the top that he hadn't seen before. One was a TED talk. For a while Janken been going through those and asking Scooter to clarify the issues under discussion. Scooter had nearly sprained his brain trying to explain copyright law to a Fraggle who viewed songs as common culture, to be shared by all. What concept would he have to deconstruct this time? Well, might as well watch it. He needed a short break anyway.

A video page titled "Coming Out of Your Closet: Ash Beckham at TEDx Boulder" came up. Oh, okay, Scooter thought. This is familiar territory. He started the video. As the audience clapped and cheered a short-haired woman wearing a vest, jeans, and sneakers walked out on a stage carrying a microphone and began to speak.

"I'm gonna talk to you tonight about coming out of the closet. And not in the traditional sense. Not just the gay closet. I think we all have closets. Your closet may be telling someone you love her for the first time. Or telling someone that you're pregnant. Or telling someone you have cancer. Or any of the other hard conversations that we have throughout our lives. All a closet is is a hard conversation. And although our topics may vary tremendously, the experience of being in and coming out of the closet is universal. It is scary, and we hate it, and it needs to be done."

She spoke as if addressing a friend rather than an audience, Scooter noticed. He chuckled as she told an anecdote about a girl in a café who innocently asked her a difficult question. She spoke of how hard issues were hard, and there was no point in comparing which are harder than others. She spoke of how everyone is in in a closet at some point, but they are no place for a person to live in. She compared keeping a truth about yourself secret to holding a hand grenade, one which would kill you if you did not throw it.

She finished, "Hard conversations are not my strong suit. Ask anyone I have ever dated. But I'm getting better. And I follow what I like to call the three pancake girl principles. Now, please, view these through gay-colored lenses, but know what it takes to come out of any closet is essentially the same. Number one: be authentic. Take your armor off. Be yourself. The kid in the café had no armor but I was ready for battle. _Stupid_ hypothalamus. If you want someone to be real with you, they need to know that you bleed too. Number two: Be direct, just say it, rip the band-aid off. If you know you are gay, just say it. If you tell your parents you might be gay they will hold out hope that this will change. Do not give them that sense of false hope. And number three, and most important: be unapologetic. You are speaking your truth. Never apologize for that. And some folks might have gotten hurt along the way, so, sure, apologize for what you've done, but never apologize for what you are. And, yeah, some folks may be disappointed, but that is on them, not on you. Those are their expectations of who you are, not yours. That is their story, not yours. The only story that matters is the one you wanna write.

"So the next time you find yourself in a pitch black closet clutching your grenade, know we have all been there before. And you may feel so very alone, but you are not. And we know it's hard, but we need you out here no matter what your walls are made of. Because I guarantee you there are others peering through the keyhole of their closets looking for the next brave soul to bust the door open, so be that person. And show the world that we are bigger than our closets, and that a closet is no place for a person to truly live."

On the screen, the audience applauded and cheered, and she waved again and bade them good night. Quietly Scooter took off his glasses and wiped his eyes.

* * *

All characters except Janken are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _Coming Out of Your Closet: Ash Beckham at TEDx Boulder_, excerpted here, is copyright Ash Beckham (I assume, as I don't see copyright info on the site) and is well worth watching in full right here: video/Coming-Out-of-Your-Closet-Ash-B. All copyrighted materials are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken Fraggle is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	10. Chapter 10

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 10: Where Does That Highway Lead To?**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

Janken left the Muppet Theater. Most everyone was standing around outside, about to board the bus to go home. Scooter was staying late to do all the stuff that he felt he needed to do before tomorrow; he'd take his own bike home later. Janken wished he would just let go and relax a little, but it wasn't for him to tell Scooter how to do his job.

* * *

Janken rode his bike a few miles to the karaoke bar. After locking the bicycle to the rack, he walked in. Someone else was sitting at the "little people" side of the bar. Jeans, vest, ragmop hairdo—"Hi, Fleet," Janken said as he took another stool. "I thought you didn't come here on karaoke nights."

"Yeah, well, I like talking with you," Fleet said. "There's worse ways to spend an evening."

"Sure," Janken said. "Travis? The usual."

Fleet said, "Irish coffee for me."

The bartender glanced back in acknowledgment. "Sure thing."

He mixed up a drink that looked to Fleet like a V-8 over ice with some vegetable sticks stuck in for no good reason and set it in front of Janken. Fleet took something out of his vest pocket and put it on the bar napkin. "Try that in it."

Janken stared, perplexed, at the radish. "What's that for?"

Fleet said, "I thought Fraggles like radishes."

"Well, yes, we do," Janken said.

No 'oh, crud' moment when he called him a Fraggle, Fleet noted. Oh, well. Janken picked up the vegetable and ate it whole as if it were an olive. "Thanks. So, what do you do for a living?"

"I freelance, mostly," Fleet answered. "How about you?"

Travis set a glass in front of fleet. The drink looked to Janken like some kind of float, with coffee below and a thick layer of cream on top. Janken said, "I work cameras."

"Yeah, on _The Muppet Show_, I remember now. What's that like?"

Janken paused, then said, "It's kind of hard to describe. Mainly I have to make sure that the cameras are pointed at the right spots so they catch everything, and that the show is lit properly. It used to be tough, but after I got a feel for it I stopped thinking about it and just do it."

"Kinda like typing or driving, eh?"

Janken shrugged. "Actually, I can't do either."

"You don't drive?"

"Nope."

"How do you get around?"

"I have a bike and a bus pass." He sipped his drink. "What kind of things do you write?"

Fleet replied, "I didn't say I wrote."

Janken reminded him, "You did yesterday, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, little things. Nothing you'd find in a bookstore. Not that there are any of those around anymore."

"You freelance? You write things, and then get someone to buy them?" Janken persisted.

"Something like that." Which was not really the case, but who honestly wanted to know his job arrangements?

"Tell me about some of the stuff you've written," Janken requested.

"Oh, sheesh. People don't usually ask things like that. Usually they'd rather talk about themselves."

"I already know about myself," Janken replied with a smile.

"Okay. Well, I write things for magazines and papers. Nothing too in-depth, just who's doing what, for people who haven't already heard on TV or Facebook. Sometimes a medical article."

Janken could hear the evasions. Fleet obviously wanted to keep it vague. He wasn't exactly being dishonest, but he wasn't being honest either. Janken decided he would take Scooter's warning to heart and stick to safe subjects.

Fleet continued, "Who really cares? Bottom line, I find there's something that I ought to write about, I do some research, and I write what I find out. It pays the rent."

"Don't you like what you write?" Janken asked.

Fleet said to the bartender, "Another round, him and me. It's on me." He answered Janken, "I guess. If it's not worth reading, nobody's gonna read it, right?"

"True."

"I guess this doesn't make a lot of sense to a Fraggle, though. Not many magazines in caves."

"Nope. Our publishing industry is when someone thinks something is important enough to write down. If people have to take turns reading it, then it's a best seller. So, you've done research on Fraggles. Are you writing an article on us?"

"No, no," Fleet said. "I'm just curious. I don't meet cave-dwelling monsters every day."

Janken grinned. "Monsters? Well, fair enough. If you've looked me up you've found out that the TMI helped me get on my feet when I first got lost out here, and their mission is to help Monsters. I'm lucky they called me one of them."

"You like being called a monster? Weird." Fleet shook his head and drank some of his coffee.

"Not so weird. I know a lot of Monsters. They're pretty much the same as anybody else."

"Huh." Fleet couldn't think of anything else to say about that.

"So, you know I was born under a rock. How about you, where are you from?"

"Right in town."

"Oh. Ever been anywhere else?"

"Oh, sure. I've traveled now and again for a story. London, France, Mock Sweden."

"Wait, wait," Janken said. "Mock Sweden?"

"Yeah, sure. Nobody speaks English there. Good thing the language isn't hard to learn. _Den snåbba brüna räven høppade över den låta hünden."_

"Wow, Janken said, impressed. "I can't imagine learning a whole other language. I've only ever known Fragglish."

"And English."

"Some thing, actually."

Fleet gave him a strange look. "What?"

"This is Fragglish. Or Fragglish is English. Kinda makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"Sounds like baloney to me."

Janken grinned. "Or magic."

Frowning, Fleet said, "Magic? What're you talking about?"

Janken said, "Sure. Magic is real. It's all around us. It's in anything we know is real but can't explain how. The cycle of the seasons. Unbelievable coincidences. The way Fraggle songs light the caves."

Fleet gave Janken a look behind his glasses. The Fraggle was definitely loosening up. He said, "I need some more so this'll make sense." He waved to get the bartender's attention and motioned for another round.

* * *

They chatted for a while. Fleet asked questions, drawing Janken out. Perhaps the Muppet was having him on; if not, he was nuts. Everything was magic? Yeah, right. But he kept Janken talking, because at the rate they were drinking Janken would soon be ready to let something slip.

Fleet got them both another round. Janken said, "I wanna do a song. Every karaoke night I sing at least once."

"Go for it," Fleet told him.

"How about you?"

"I didn't come here to sing."

"So? Why not give it a try? It's a lot of fun."

Fleet was about to refuse, but then he caught Janken's earnest expression. He just about had the Fraggle on the hook; he didn't want to lose him now. And he'd certainly done stupider things in the name of a story. "All right, all right! Jeez. Let's see the song list."

Janken got the copy that was further down the bar and opened it up to the Billy Joel songs. He scanned down the list, then picked one that he hadn't yet tried and wrote down the title and code. Fleet took a little longer. He had no idea if he could make it through one of these things. He was a little drunk now—he had to be, to even consider this—but he knew how far he could go and still stay lucid. If he fouled the song up he'd appear to be worse off than he was, which would put the Fraggle off his guard. He saw a title that he remembered liking, and said, "That one."

"Okay." Janken wrote down Fleet's name and the title and code. He handed both slips to Travis, who gave them to the server-slash-emcee, who hadn't had much to do due to a lull. He immediately opened one and said, "Here's our resident Billy Joel nut with _Keeping the Faith_."

Janken hopped down off his stool, went to the stagelike area defined by a lack of tables, and stood on the chair that the emcee put in front of the microphone for him. He was excited and eager, but he seemed more confident than the usual perpetrators. They laughed like they were covering up their nervousness, or preparing to do something hilarious or embarrassing. Janken just got up there and sang like it was no big deal. And, Fleet thought, he really did have a good voice. He could sing for real, and he looked like he was having a great time doing it. Yet he was stuck backstage on _The Muppet Show_ while talentless acts flailed about in front of the cameras. What was up with that? There _had_ to be some dirt there.

When the song was done Janken came back to the bar, grinning widely. Fleet started to say something, but then the emcee said into the microphone, "And here's Fleet with _The Entertainer."_

Oops! Fleet had forgotten for a moment that Janken had somehow talked him into this. Crud! Well, it wasn't like he'd look like an idiot in front of anyone who mattered. He went up to the stage. There was a screen below the microphone that he hadn't noticed before; the lyrics played there. Oh, good. He wouldn't be _completely_ lost.

"I am the entertainer and I know just where I stand:  
Another serenader in another long-haired band.  
Today I am your champion, I may have won your hearts,  
But I know the game, you'll forget my name,  
And I won't be here in another year  
If I don't stay on the charts."

Janken watched as Fleet stumbled through the first few lines of the song. He knew the tune and could read the lyrics, but he wasn't keeping time with the music. _Relax_, Janken thought. _It doesn't have to be that hard. Take it from me. You'll be fine._

Fleet felt like a fool. This was stupid. But he wasn't going to back down now. He'd hold on until the end, and if his performance was terrible, it'd be no more than payback for everyone else who had been yowling into the microphone all evening.

Janken listened. After a rough start, Fleet seemed to be finding his feet, putting some expression into the song. This was what Janken had been hoping for. As a Fraggle, he knew that songs had meaning; they weren't just pretty sounds. The song a person chose reflected their taste, the things on their minds. He could hear that in the way Fleet was singing now, with a touch of bitterness.

"I am the entertainer, I've come to do my show.  
You've heard my latest record, it's been on the radio.  
It took me years to write it, they were the best years of my life!  
It was a beautiful song but it ran too long—  
If you're gonna have a hit you gotta make it fit—  
So they cut it down to three-oh-five.

"I am the entertainer, the idol of my age.  
I make all kinds of money when I go on the stage.  
You see me in the papers, I've been in the magazines,  
But if I go cold, I won't get sold.  
I'll get put in the back in the discount rack  
Like another can of beans!"

After the final verse, which was a repeat of the first, it was over and he could go back to his stool. To his surprise there was actually some polite applause. _Don't patronize me_, he thought.

Janken said, "Not bad. Want another coffee? On me this time."

Fleet shook his head. "No more for me. Any more and I won't be sober enough by closing time to drive home."

Janken was surprised. "What? How could you get drunk on _coffee?"_

_"Irish_ coffee. With whiskey in." He looked up at Janken. "Hey, why aren't _you_ drunk?"

"On Bloody Virgin Marys?" Janken replied.

Fleet stared at him for a long moment. Then he began to laugh. "Aw, jeez. I never had a chance. You win. Now I gotta sit here and listen to a few more hours of people screeching crummy pop songs until I can drive."

This had taken a very strange turn, Janken thought. Why did Fleet drink that stuff if it did this to him? He said, "Want to go outside for some air?"

"Yeah. I'd rather just go home."

"Where do you live?"

"Blue Creek Apartments."

"Where's that?

"Corner of Katz Street and Munson. Why?"

"That's not too far. I'll take you home if you want to go," Janken offered.

"You said you can't drive, didn't you?" Fleet said, suddenly suspicious.

Janken took out his bus pass. "There's more than one way to get around town."

* * *

Several minutes later they were at a bus shelter. Janken was studying a map that showed the local bus routes and Fleet was wondering what he was getting into. This queer Muppet who drank kiddie drinks was taking him home. This could get weird. He said, "Look, it's not like this's the first time. I can deal with it."

Janken replied, "It's all right. After all, I'm partially responsible for the fix you're in."

Fleet shook his head. Goofy guy.

Janken said, "It'll be easy to get there and back. Just have to transfer once. Do you have a piece of paper?"

"Sure." Fleet took a small notepad and a pen out of a vest pocket and handed it to Janken. A moment later he realized he'd handed Janken his notes, everything he'd taken down about possible articles, including what he suspected about Janken! But the Fraggle seemed not to notice. He just flipped to a blank page and, glancing back and forth between the map and the paper, jotted down a few lines. Then he handed it and the pen back.

Fleet put them quickly back into his pocket.

* * *

The two of them got on a bus, rode a few miles, then got off. Soon another bus came, and they got on that one. After a few more miles they got off right in front of the Blue Creek Apartments.

The ride had been a quiet one. Fleet didn't trust himself to speak right now. Janken sensed his discomfort and left him alone with his thoughts. When they were at the front door Fleet said, "Look, I'm not going to invite you into my place. I mean, I don't—I'm not like that."

Janken said gently, "Fleet, being gay doesn't mean you're on the make for everyone of the same sex any more than being straight means you're after everyone of the opposite."

Embarrassed, Fleet said, "Aw, crud…I didn't mean it that way." But, he knew, he had. "Don't mind me, I'm drunk."

"Yeah. Look, I'm sure you can make it the rest of the way by yourself. I wrote down directions and bus numbers so you can go back for your car tomorrow. Now I'd better get back; I have somewhere to go too."

They parted, and Fleet went up to his unit on the second floor. After he locked the door he sat down and asked himself just what the heck had happened.

* * *

Later that evening Scooter, sitting on his bed in the boarding house, heard a tap on his door. He said, "Come in."

Janken entered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be this late. I had a funny adventure."

"What happened?"

Janken took off his jacket and put it in a chair. "Fleet was there again. I think he was trying to get me drunk. It backfired."

"How'd _that_ happen?"

Janken chuckled. "He didn't know what I was drinking, and I didn't know what Irish coffee is. Anyway, I took him home on the bus, which is why I'm late."

Scooter laughed. "I wish I'd seen that."

"Poor guy was really embarrassed." But Janken grinned.

"I bet. Um, Jan, I saw that video you bookmarked. The TED talk," Scooter said in a more serious tone.

It took Janken a moment to remember what video that would have been. Then he said, "Um."

"I kinda want to ask you why you wanted to show me that, but I guess I know."

Janken took Scooter's hand—the one with the ring—and clasped it between his own. "I meant to show it to you myself rather than spring it on you like that. I'm not…I just thought it was smart stuff. 'Hard is hard.' Not that I'm telling you I want you to leap out of the closet or anything," he explained.

Scooter smiled. "It's okay, Jan. It tied me in a knot for a little while. Couldn't get much done after I watched that. But, you know, after I thought about it I realized something."

"What?"

Scooter looked down at his hand in Janken's, the gold of their matching rings shining against their skin. "That grenade—I've already pulled the pin."

* * *

All characters except Janken and Travis are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _The Entertainer_ is copyright © Billy Joel. All copyrighted materials are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken Fraggle is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	11. Chapter 11

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 11: Sometimes I Can't Believe This is All Happening**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

The next day Kermit posted the list of acts for the upcoming show. He and Scooter had spent a lot of time on that list, figuring out which acts were ready to go and would make for a good, balanced show, whatever that was. Most of the acts that had been sufficiently developed were included. Most, but not all.

The Great Gonzo was surprised and disappointed that none of the acts he had proposed were included. He'd submitted an even baker's dozen, and not a single one made the cut? He had not been able to rehearse them, but then he didn't often rehearse his stunts much, as he might end up injuring himself before the show. A simple proof-of-concept was good enough most of the time. They knew that he would come through, and when he failed he failed entertainingly.

Oh well. This wouldn't be his first time sitting out a show. He hadn't been expecting it, considering how hard they'd been working to come up with a full show's worth of material in a few days, but stuff happens, he told himself.

Kermit saw the look on Gonzo's face. He'd known that he'd be disappointed. He said, "Hey, Gonzo."

Gonzo looked up. "Yeah?"

"We'll put you in the show. We just haven't figured out where."

Gonzo smiled. "Sure, Kermit. Wherever you need me."

Gonzo went off. Mentally Kermit sighed. It wasn't a big deal. Not everyone could star in every show, and Gonzo was always good for filling out a chorus or background ensemble. They'd greenlight one of his acts for the next show or the one after that, Gonzo would break a bone or three, and all would be right with the world again.

Several limousines and a bus parked in the lot behind the Muppet Theater. The various children, adults, and equipment were all brought around to the front. When everybody was ready—the filming staff had their cameras and boom mikes, the kids were in place, and Miss Piggy had checked her hair and makeup just to be sure—Miss Piggy said sweetly to the director, "_Moi_ is ready whenever _vous _are."

The director nodded to one of the staff, who stepped in front of the camera, snapped a clapper, and dodged back again. Miss Piggy, her voice raised slightly so that the boom microphone that was also recording ambient street noise for that touch of gritty realism would pick her up clearly, said, "Here we are at the Muppet Theater, where my career truly began. So many have come here, but few have seen the side we're about to see." She opened the door and beckoned the children in, and went in after them, leaving the staff to wrangle their sound and video equipment.

* * *

The stage had become a nursery. The painted backdrops looked like 1970s-style pastel walls with pink-curtained windows. Several cribs were placed downstage, and upstage were a pair of playpens. They were occupied by an assortment of toys and sleeping babies.

Bobby Benson's Baby Band was preparing for a technical rehearsal when Miss Piggy walked down one of the aisles, trailing a half-dozen small girls and a camera crew. Scooter, who had been about to call for a music playback, stared. They had a show to put together, and the last thing they needed was this gaggle getting underfoot! Unsure of what to say, but knowing he had to say something, he went to the edge of the stage. "Ah, Miss Piggy?"

She replied in a singsong voice that could be heard by everyone around, "Don't worry, Scooter. They are merely filming on location, and will not bother anyone. I discussed it all with Kermit yesterday." She turned back to the crew and said, "Scooter is our stage manager. When we're setting up the show, he is the boss. So we will not get in his way, or interfere with the show in any way. _Capice?"_ The babies and some of the toys were sitting up, wondering about the unexpected delay.

Scooter was mildly embarrassed, but glad all the same to see Piggy begin by reading them the riot act, even if she was exaggerating his authority. He said, "They won't be filming the rehearsals, will they?"

"What?" She had not thought about that. "No. But may the girls watch? They so want to see how a _real_ show is put together." She smiled winningly. "They know how to behave around a stage. They won't be any trouble."

"Sure, that's fine. Between rehearsals they can have a look backstage, if you want."

"Thank you! That would be wonderful." She told the girls, "Let's have a seat. You too," she added to the staff, "and I'll tell you when you may turn your equipment back on again."

The girls were all quietly impressed. Miss Piggy was clearly in charge here! Yet she did it without raising her voice or making threats. She simply acted as if she was the boss, and people jumped when she said frog.

Scooter, meanwhile, ducked backstage. He couldn't have said no to Miss Piggy, not if he wanted to avoid meeting his medical insurance deductible. He had no doubt that she had discussed this in some form with Kermit. Still, he went to alert his boss to the situation, just in case there were any details Piggy might have forgotten to mention.

Janken, at his console on the other side of the stage, had seen and heard only part of the exchange, and was puzzled when Scooter left just as they were about to run through the song. He tapped the intercom and said, "Bobby, is something wrong?"

"I don't think so. Where'd Scooter go?"

"I don't know. Want me to start the playback?"

"Yeah, we're all ready."

"Okay." He switched the intercom off, then turned the lights down to simulate naptime. The babies all flopped down and closed their eyes. He started the music track, which began with the theme played on a toy piano. One of the babies lifted his head, blinking sleepily as if awakening from a nap, and began singing what sounded at first like baby babble.  
"And the bass keeps wunnin', wunnin',  
And wunnin', wunnin',"

The other babies yawned, awakened, and one by one picked up the chant. Soon the first baby stood up in his crib and, leaning over the safety rail, began lisping,  
"In this context there's no diswespect,  
So when I bust my wyme, you dance like heck.  
We got five minutes for us to disconnect  
From all intellect and let the wythm effect  
To lose this inhibition  
Follow your intuition,  
Fwee your inner soul  
And bweak away from twadition."

Another baby stood and pulled a pacifier out of her mouth to sing.  
"'Cause when we be out  
Girl it's gonna be that  
You wouldn't believe how  
We wow out."

A third chimed in,  
"Turn it 'til it's turned up,  
Turn it till it's turned out,  
Actin' up from north, west,  
East, south.

"Everybody!"

All the babies cried out, "Yeah!"

"Everybody!"

"Yeah!"

"Let's get into it!"

"Yeah!"

"Get goofy!"

"C'mon!"

"Get it started!"

"C'mon!"

"Get it started!"

"C'mon!"

"Get it started!"

All of the babies were standing by now. Some had bottles, some were holding blankets or stuffed animals. The smallest had a knit cap covering his bald head. All were wearing onesies. They began bouncing in their cribs and singing,  
"Let's get it started, ha!  
Let's get it started in here!  
Let's get it started, ha!  
Let's get it started in here!"

The girls watched, amazed, as the Baby Band rapped in high-pitched, lisping voices. Each member of the band had a solo, and with each verse and chorus the scene grew rowdier, with the toys in the "nursery" coming to life and dancing along too, and penguins jumping around behind the cribs because, well, ballistic penguins were rarely out of place in a Muppet act. The effect was ridiculously cute and funny. By the end of the song the babies looked like they were getting sleepy, and it ended with them collapsing, one by one, in their cribs and playpens. Only the first baby to sing continued the song as he snuggled back down in his crib, mumbling as if he was half-asleep, "Wunnin', wunnin', and wunnin', wunnin'…"

When the music cut off Scooter and Bobby walked out on stage. Scooter said to both the performers and their manager, "That was perfect! Do it just like that on the show, okay?"

The babies nodded, giggled, and sucked their thumbs in agreement. Tessie, the cockatoo, turned in her seat and asked Miss Piggy, "Are they _really_ babies?"

"Yes, they are."

"But how did they learn all that?"

"They wanted to, and nobody told them they were too young." She smiled. "And they have a whole lot of talent."

Kate, the spaniel, said, "Maybe they're really small people who just look like babies."

"Would you like to visit the diaper-changing room?" Miss Piggy inquired.

"Ew! No thanks," Kate said. The other girls wore matching squeamish expressions.

Bobby and a few very large monsters were escorting the performers offstage. The youngest ones were being carried, and the senior performers were toddling by their sides. Scooter called from the stage, "Miss Piggy, you can all come backstage now."

"Thank you, Scooter." She turned to the crew, who were seated a few rows back, and said, "Let's roll."

Miss Piggy led them to the exit door at the side of the stage, then through a door in the side. That brought them to the backstage area. The girls looked all around. Compared to the TV studios they were used to it was dark and dusty, and props and things were all over the place. Janken, who Scooter had apprised of the situation, said, "Hi, girls. Welcome to backstage left."

Miss Piggy told the girls, "Janken here is our camera operator. Although he is rarely in the show, he's very important because he makes sure the cameras see what they should see. Without a good cameraman _The Muppet Show _would look like a home movie."

"Can I see what you do?" Molly, the kitten, asked. The others glanced at her, surprised. She was so quiet, it was startling when she spoke without first being spoken to.

"Sure," Janken answered. "Come around so you can get a good view." The girls clustered around his chair, and he told them, "We have a bunch of cameras. Some are on the underside of the balcony, some are in the wings or near the footlights or elsewhere. I could see out of all of them, but that'd be way too much to handle at a time. So I have to figure out which cameras to use. In this case, I mostly used two from the balconies that can see the whole stage-'" He pressed a few buttons, and two monitors showed the stage, one from the left side and one from the right. "-and one in the center to zoom in and follow the action around." He pressed another button, and an inset appeared showing one of the babies, singing silently as he bounced in his crib, the camera following every move. "And I used a footlight camera to get the 'mosh pit' close up, because that'll look good on TV." He pressed another switch, and one of the screen changed to a view of the stuffed animals and toys jumping around. Janken glanced at Miss Piggy and said, Um, I guess that's pretty much it."

Most of the girls were acting politely interested. Duffy, the lamb, looked fascinated. "How do you remember which buttons do what?"

He glanced at the console, which was covered with buttons and sliders and screens and things. "It does look complicated, doesn't it? It's just one of those things that you learn, and the more you do it the less you have to think about it. But in the beginning I put sticky notes on the important bits. Sometimes they'd get stuck on me instead. I'd look like I was growing yellow scales."

The girls grinned, some more dutifully than others. Miss Piggy said, "Now, come with me, girls. Let's go to the other side of the stage." She beckoned to them, and instead of crossing the stage, where they were setting up for another rehearsal, they went back and into a passage behind it. Unlike the rest of the backstage area, this was clear of clutter. People might have to get through fast and couldn't afford any hindrances. They ended up on the other side of the stage, behind the wings and below the balcony outside the dressing rooms.

Scooter, at the desk, glanced back—Piggy had things under control—then looked out at the stage. They had taken everything down from the babies' rehearsal, and weren't quite ready for the next. He picked up a phone and dialed a dressing room extension. "Lew? You said you wanted to get some training in? The stage's free at the moment."

Miss Piggy paused a minute to give the girls—and the camera crew—a chance to look around. Things were much calmer now than an episode of _The Muppet Show_ would lead people to expect. Although, she thought to herself, Kermit and Scooter would have something very different to say about that. But she had promised Kermit that she would keep all this out of their way. She said, "Now, let's visit my very favorite part of the theater, next to the stage and my dressing room."

She led them down a hallway on the side, then opened a door. Inside were racks and racks of clothing, shelves of shoes, plus wigs and wraps and everything else. She said, "The wardrobe department!"

The girls entered, eyes wide, looking around at the wild profusion of clothing and costumes, and the cameras scanned around, pausing on some of the more interesting items. Miss Piggy took a red sequined dress off the rack, one that she knew she was a knockout in, and held it up to her front. "Everything we wear for the show is right here."

"Hello?" The voice came from behind the racks.

"Oh! Come here, would you?" Miss Piggy chirped.

A few moments later a pink-skinned, gray-haired woman wearing round, tinted glasses and a pincushion on her wrist bustled out of the depths of the room. Surprised, she said, "Oh, what's this?" in an odd accent.

"Girls, meet Hilda, our head of Wardrobe. She makes the clothes we wear on the show."

"And repairs them when they get torn up, although how that happens I'll never know," Hilda added with good humor.

Tessie, who looked genuinely excited for the first time that day, said, "You have _everyone's_ costumes here?"

Hilda replied, "Yes, everything you see on the stage! Why, this section here is all for Miss Piggy." She gestured to the line of racks running clear to the back wall. "Here are the newest costumes. "Down there are older costumes that she can't wear anymore because…" She suddenly stopped, and a glance at Miss Piggy's expression made her finish, "because they are out of fashion. Who wears bell bottoms these days?"

_Good save_, said the look in Piggy's eyes, and Hilda let out a small breath of relief. The kids didn't appear to have noticed. Piggy said, "Why don't you show them some of the smaller costumes? I know we have things in their sizes."

"Oh, certainly! Come with me, girls. And, uh," She glanced back at the camera and sound crew, "bring your friends."

* * *

Lew Zealand was throwing fish into the air above the audience, sending each spinning with a smart snap of the wrist. Some were pros he'd worked with for years; they sailed out over the seats, then arced back and smacked neatly into his hands. But others just didn't seem to have the knack yet. They curved off to the sides and slid down the walls, some plopped into the seats, and one even hit the ceiling. Gonzo, who had nothing else to do, said, "I'll pitch those back."

"Thanks," Lew said.

Gonzo hopped down the side of the stage, where he could jump without falling into the orchestra pit, and followed the sounds of flopping fish to the trainees. He picked the first one up—close to the tail, the way Lew did—and threw it toward the stage. It nearly made it—Lew had almost caught it—when it spun, reversed, and came back to Gonzo. Lew put his fists on his hips and said, annoyed, "You'll come back to him and not to me?"

Gonzo told the fish, "Sorry, but my thing's chickens. Nothing personal." He tossed the fish again, and this time it made it safely to Lew. Lew said to the fish, "It's okay, everyone gets confused around here. We'll work on it."

* * *

Miss Piggy took the girls and recording crew all around the Muppet Theater, introducing them to someone from each aspect of the show, right down to Sweetums, who was invaluable when it came to moving big chunks of scenery around, and Beauregard, who kept the place clean and reasonably structurally sound. She wanted to impress on these girls that it was not just about the stars. A show was a huge, collaborative effort. Considering how many of the people were startled that she introduced them, she thought that maybe she was occasionally just a teeny little bit guilty of overlooking them too.

The girls enjoyed themselves. Hilda let those who were interested "borrow" costumes for the day. Miss Piggy gave Tessie and Julie custom makeup jobs in her dressing room, bringing out their good looks without making them into imitation adults. Molly went back to Janken, who let her experiment with the control panel between rehearsals. Duffy trailed Scooter around, watching and willing to be helpful but otherwise staying out of his way, and Scooter gave her little tasks, which she cheerfully did. Kate watched the stage from the wings; Miss Piggy thought she was imagining what it would be in front of a live audience. And Pepper, the lizard, was interested in everything, from the flyspace to the prop room. Piggy could tell that she was restraining herself from pestering everyone with questions.

After the day's rehearsing and other business was done, all the Muppets present gathered in the audience seats. Kermit sat facing them on the edge of the orchestra pit. Piggy and the girls sat off to the side. Though the camera crew had had enough and packed it in, the girls were still having a great time. The director, who had given up being anything more than a chaperone, stayed quiet and out of the way and wished for aspirin.

Kermit let everyone babble for a while, then called out, "Okay, settle down guys, there are a few things we have to do today!"

The chatter died down quickly. Gonzo, not noticing, continued, "—and I said, 'Of course, I _always_ carry a styptic pencil.'" Then, realizing everyone was looking at him, said, "Well, I do."

Kermit said, "Guys, we have almost all the acts we need. Now we have to hammer out a backstage story. Today, so we can film it tomorrow. And it should be something we can put on the side screen so the audience can see it."

Bunsen spoke up. "Suppose Muppet Labs invents an invisibility formula."

Fozzie asked, "Do you really have one of those?"

Beaker, next to Bunsen, shook his head and squeaked. Bunsen said, "Not yet. But if such a substance somehow splattered on the wall, then the wall would become invisible, letting the audience see through into the backstage."

Impressed, Beauregard said, "That'd be lots easier than knocking a hole in the wall."

Kermit nodded. "You mean as a framing device? I like that."

"Yes. To begin with, I would describe the formula to you, but only our voices would be heard, perhaps through a faulty intercom. Somehow it gets knocked out of my hands and onto the wall. The projector starts, showing the wall turning invisible and us behind it."

Floyd spoke up. "Can we see them? Is it like we know they're watching us?"

Kermit said, "It'd probably be better if we didn't."

Bunsen said, "It can be a one-way invisibility formula then. And unbeknownst to us the polarity is reversed, so as far as we know it didn't work at all because from our point of view the wall is still opaque."

Doctor Teeth said, "As eloquently elucidated as the preamble to our annual national ten-forty."

Kermit said, "As long as we can get that to make sense to the audience, let's do that. Now, how about the story they'll see through the hole?"

Rowlf raised a finger. "Budget problems. To help pay for the show, we take up babysitting?"

The other Muppets looked at each other, unsure about that idea. Janice said, "For the babies? But, like, they've been on the show before, so people know they're rilly performers."

Rowlf said, "Yeah, that's true. But—hey, Miss Piggy, how about a crossover? Kermit, can we do that? I've been watching the girls Piggy brought in, and I bet they could do a few backstage skits as the kids we're babysitting."

Kermit was startled. "Make them part of the show? I'm not sure we can do that."

Miss Piggy spoke. "Actually, Kermie, I have been over the contract with my legal staff, and there is nothing to prevent them from being seen on another show. And I can't imagine the network having any problem with it. In fact, I'm certain they would jump at the opportunity for free cross-promotion." She smiled at the director. She held her gaze long enough to give her a chance to speak, and when she did not object immediately said to the girls sitting around her, "Well, what do you think? Would you like to be in the show?"

The girls approved the motion unanimously and excitedly.

* * *

All characters except Janken, Duffy, Tessie, Molly, Kate, Julie, and Pepper are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _Let's Get It Started_ is by the Black Eyed Peas. All copyrighted materials are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken Fraggle is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	12. Chapter 12

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 12: Water Dissolving and Water Removing  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

A hog in a charcoal gray suit said, "Point twelve. Filming and recording in other forms, including but not limited to visual, audio, and motion capture. No segments of the rehearsals or show shall be recorded by your people, except for parts to be performed by the children specified in the _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ program. If any additional footage of the show is needed, we will supply that. As for additional backstage footage, we will review what you wish to use for the program or for other broadcast or archival purposes. Agreed?"

The member of the legal staff from the _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ studio who had drawn the short stick that day nodded, as did Kermit. Scooter was taking notes, and Miss Piggy watched sternly. She was not going to permit any interference by the studio at this stage, and with the help of her attorneys there would be none.

Beanes said, "Point thirteen. Releases and parental permission. I believe your staff has already seen to those matters?"

"Yes. The parents have all given their permission—some quite enthusiastically—for this 'change of venue' and have signed releases." He handed over copies of signed forms.

Beanes flipped through them. "Very good. And finally, music rights. You will be responsible for securing rights to any music from our show to be used on your program. We will be glad to provide contact information to aid you in the matter."

"Understood."

"Those are all the matters we wished to discuss. Do you have any concerns of your own?"

"No, I'm satisfied that we have ironed everything out."

Beanes said, "Kermit?"

"Yes, everything's fine." He glanced at Scooter, who gave a little nod, then at Piggy.

Sweetly Miss Piggy said, "Thank you all for coming here to settle these matters on such short notice. You have all been _très magnifique."_

The various attendees stood and shook hands, as required by unwritten convention. Then the studio's attorney escaped. Miss Piggy said to Beanes, "You had 'em eatin' out of the palm of your hand."

Beanes replied, "You laid the groundwork, Miss Piggy."

By that, she knew, he meant that she had already intimidated the studio enough that they would agree to her attorney's conditions. In short, she'd taught them that it's not smart to cross this pig.

Miss Piggy, Kermit, Scooter, and Beanes stepped out of Kermit's office. The girls were waiting outside, as were the rest of the staff, who were being briefed by their attorney. The girls looked at Piggy expectantly. She said, "Well, what're you all waiting for? Let's do this thing!"

The girls cheered. Miss Piggy smiled; they were playing it up for the cameras. She approved. She said, "I've got an act for us. Scooter was going to make copies-" She turned to him.

He said, "They're on the desk."

She looked at the desk that served Kermit and Scooter as a backstage control center. Near the top of the mass of papers and envelopes and things was a set of photocopied printouts. She took them. "Let's go to the other side," she told the girls, beckoning.

They went through the crossing to backstage left, which was the calmest part of the theater. They would be mostly out of the way here, and there would be little interference. The only person who hung around on this side was Janken, at his control console. She herded them over to the far wall, where there were boxes and things to sit on. After the camera crew got into place Miss Piggy handed the printouts around. "We're going to do this number in the show. Some of you may already know it."

Pepper exclaimed, "Neat! I've seen both the movie and the play!"

Duffy asked, "What movie?"

"_Little Orphan Annie_," Pepper told her. "The orphanage girls sang it. 'It's a hard-knock life…for us!' That one."

"I remember that. Who's going to be Annie?" Duffy asked Miss Piggy.

Julie said to Kate, "You could be Sandy."

Kate replied, "I can't do that thing with my eyes."

Pepper interjected, "I'll be the Leapin' Lizard!"

They giggled. Miss Piggy, smiling, said, "We won't be doing a scene from the show. It'll just be you girls, raising heck. There are three backstage skits that'll lead up to the song. We'll film those tomorrow, before the show."

Molly flipped through at the sheets Piggy gave her. "I don't have a script for those."

"We don't script those. We just figure out what we're going to do, and then we do it several times and pick the best one," Piggy told her.

"Cool," Pepper said.

Tessie said, "I can't do this."

"Why not?" Miss Piggy asked, surprised.

"I just can't," she said sullenly.

Kate said, "Oh, don't be a pill!"

"I'll do the backstage stuff. But not that song."

_Little prima donna twerp, can't stand to share the stage__,_ Piggy thought. "Why?"

Tessie looked around. The other girls were all ticked off at her, which didn't bother her, but Miss Piggy wasn't happy. That was bad news. And the cameras were rolling. She said, "I'll tell you, Miss Piggy. But not everyone. Just you."

The other girls stayed quiet while Piggy and Tessie locked gazes for a few moments. Then Miss Piggy said, "All right. Let's go to my dressing room." Looking at the other girls, she said, "We'll be back in a minute."

The two turned to leave. When the camera started to follow Piggy snapped, "Stay where you are, buster."

When they got to Miss Piggy's dressing room Piggy shut the door and, as nicely as she could, said, "Why don't you want to do that song?"

Tessie glanced around, as if searching for an escape, for a moment before answering. "I'm sorry. It's not that I want to mess it up. I want to do this show! But I _can't_. I can't sing. I sound awful!"

Surprised, Piggy said, "Your singing can't be _that_ bad."

"It is. I didn't know this was going to happen. You were just supposed to show us how to win pageants, and then pick the winner! I bet I'd have won. You don't have to sing in pageants. You just have to look really pretty, and I'm good at that," she said all in a rush.

"Is that all you want to do? Just look pretty?" Piggy asked gently.

Stubbornly Tessie replied, "It's what I do."

Changing tactics, Piggy said, "I bet you're a better singer than you think. And this would be a group song, not a solo."

"I can't sing."

"Won't you at least try?"

"No."

"How about right here, just for me?"

Tessie realized that she wasn't going to get out of this cleanly. She said, "All right, all right.

"A, B, C, D, E, F, G,  
H, I, J, K, L-M-N-O P."

Inwardly Miss Piggy flinched. The girl's voice wasn't bad, but she was so off key that if the girl had been humming rather than singing she would not have recognized the tune. She might be tone deaf, Piggy thought.

Tessie finished the song, then said grimly, "Don't tell me that wasn't so bad. It was."

Piggy had an idea. "If you didn't have to sing, would you do the song?"

"Huh? How?"

"You could lip-sync the song. Move your mouth as if you're singing, but don't actually sing. Nobody will hear the difference between five voices and six."

"The other girls will know."

Piggy sat down at her vanity, and motioned Tessie to sit in one of the other chairs. She said, "This is a show. We have all sorts of little tricks to make things look and sound good. What if someone has a sore throat one day? We can't throw them out of the show, cancel their act and everything. Often they'll still go onstage, and someone backstage will sing into a mic for them."

Indignantly Tessie said, "That's cheating!"

"That's putting on a show. This isn't a recital or a contest, it's show biz." In a gentler tone she said, "The audience isn't a judge's panel. They want to be entertained. Will you give it a try?"

Tessie sighed. "I guess I gotta, because everyone would kill me if I backed out."

Piggy said, "And they'd put it on TV and make a big deal out of it. People who make reality shows live for that kind of drama. You want to give them the satisfaction?"

Tessie smirked. "Nah."

"That's right. So' c'mon, let's get to work. We have a dance to learn."

Miss Piggy got up. Tessie asked, "Can I choose what I get to wear?"

Miss Piggy thought about it. The girls could be running amok backstage, and make a detour through the wardrobe department… "I think so."

"Great!" She hopped up, then took Miss Piggy's hand and said quietly, "Thank you."

Miss Piggy squeezed her hand. "You're welcome."

Tessie walked to the door. Over her shoulder she said, "I was really scared. Mom told me never to sing. I'd look terrible."

Miss Piggy's throat caught.

* * *

The girls had been speculating quietly among themselves. Would Tessie quit or be cut? None of them particularly liked her; she was so aloof, they thought of her as stuck up. But if she dropped out what would it do to the show? They shared their opinions in whispers so the camera crew wouldn't pick anything up. They didn't want anything that made them look mean to get on TV.

Miss Piggy and Tessie returned to the group. Miss Piggy said, "It's settled. Now, let's get to rehearsin'! We'll start back here, and when we have a good handle on the song and dance we'll move it to the stage."

* * *

Miss Piggy worked with her group for several hours. They were bright, and learned the song and basic blocking easily. The others noticed that Tessie wasn't singing, but they wisely kept their comments to themselves. They had enough to keep them busy!

When they finished that evening, the other Muppets were leaving to go home. Janken was about to shut down the console when Scooter said through the intercom, "Can you stay a little late? There's something I want to film."

"Sure," Janken replied.

Janken remained at his post, surfing the web, until Scooter came over. Scooter said, "Whew. Took a while to square things away. What a week."

Janken asked, "So what's the mystery project?"

"I want to make a short video. And I want your opinion on it, because it has something to do with you too."

Perplexed, Janken said, "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

"I'd like to film this onstage, but against the back wall, no scenery or anything. I'm just going to talk to the camera."

"Okay. I'll set up one of the hand cams on a tripod."

They went out on the stage. Scooter placed a chair several feet away from the wall, and Janken set up the camera in front of that. When it was ready Janken said, "Sit in the seat so I can frame you. How wide do you want this?"

"I'll be talking to the camera, sitting here, not moving around. I just wanted the back wall for a sense of place. Um, the back of the chair's going to show, isn't it?"

"Unless I go tight on your face and shoulders, yeah. Or I could make it look like a Snapple ad."

"Ha. Hold on, gimme a moment." He went offstage, then came back with a stool. He put that in place of the chair. He sat and said, "How about that?"

"Hold on." Janken raised the camera a little—the stool was a few inches taller than the chair—then said, "Yeah, that's good."

"Let me see the framing."

"Sure."

Scooter got up and checked the image on the back of the camera. "Yeah, that's just right."

"Okay. Shall we film a dry run first?"

Scooter shook his head. "No. I've gone over this a hundred times in my head, and I just want to do it. In one take, if I can."

Concerned, Janken said, "You look nervous, Scoot. What's this about?"

"Just film it. Then you'll understand, I promise."

"Well, okay," Janken said.

Scooter sat back on the stool. His face was composed, Janken saw, but his hands, below camera range, were tense. "Ready?"

"Wait. Um, Jan, do you need to do anything with the camera while it's filming? If I don't move around, can you just turn it on and leave it?"

"For something like this, yeah. Why?"

"Would you mind standing off to the side? I want to talk straight to the camera."

And he couldn't do that if Janken was behind it? But he must have his reasons. "Okay. I'll go back to the console and watch on the monitor. I'll control it from back there. Let me know when you're ready to start."

"Thanks, Jan." As Janken went backstage again Scooter took a few deep breaths, looking upward, at the balcony and the curtains that shielded the flyspace from the audience. He opened his hands and put them on his legs, willing them to relax. Then he said, "Roll 'em."

* * *

Five minutes later Scooter paused, then said, "Okay, cut."

The red light went off on the camera. A moment later Janken came out of the wings. Scooter asked, "What do you think?"

Wordlessly Janken gave Scooter a warm, sincere hug. Scooter hugged back. He felt drained and a little shaky. He needed this.

After a minute Janken said, "I don't know how you did that all in one take. I'd never have been able to keep it together."

"I had to keep myself moving. Remember the next point and go on to that. Did it look stagey?"

"No. It didn't look scripted at all. A little rough, but in the right places. It looked real."

"Good. It was."

"So, what now? Upload it?"

"No. I'm not a hundred percent sure I want to put it out there. I'm _nearly_ sure. In a day or two I bet I will be. But for now I'd just like to let it sit."

"That's fine. Even if nobody else ever sees it, I'm glad I did."

"Heh."

Janken held him a little longer, then gave him a light kiss and said, "Anything I can do?"

"Actually, yeah. It's been a heavy day. I could really use a laugh right now."

"Hmm. Lemme think…ah. Be right back." He held up one finger, then tapped Scooter on the nose. Then he went back into the wings.

He was backstage for a few minutes. Cueing up a song, Scooter guessed. It was always music with Fraggles. He was proven right when he heard soft guitar music over the theater's sound system. Janken walked out of the wings again and crooned,  
"Mai-ia-hii, mai-ia-huu, mai-ia-haa, mai-ia-haha,  
Mai-ia-hii, mai-ia-huu, mai-ia-haa, mai-ia-haha,"

A bass line joined the guitar. He yodeled,  
"Mai-ia-hii, mai-ia-huu, mai-ia-haa, mai-ia-haha!  
Mai-ia-hii, mai-ia-huu, mai-ia-haa, mai-ia-haha!"

Janken stepped forward and sang seductively and phonetically to a very confused Scooter,  
"Alo? Salut. Sunt eu, un haiduc.  
Si te rog iubirea mea primeşte, fericirea.  
Alo, alo? Sunt eu, Picasso.  
Ţi-am dat beep şi sunt voinic  
Dar să ştii nu-ţi cer nimic."

He stepped back and began waving his arms ridiculously.  
"Vrei să pleci dar nu mă, nu mă iei,  
Nu mă, nu mă iei, nu mă, nu mă, nu mă iei."

Scooter laughed. Now he recognized the song! Both of them waved their arms and sang,  
"Chipul tău şi dragostea din tei  
Mi-amintesc de ochii tăi!"

* * *

All named characters except Janken, Duffy, Tessie, Molly, Kate, Julie, and Pepper are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _Dragostea Din Tei_ (often known as "the numa numa song" is by the Moldavian group O-Zone. All copyrighted materials are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Duffy, Tessie, Molly, Kate, Julie, and Pepper are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	13. Chapter 13

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 13: The Stranger  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Muppets filled the theater from the back forward. Their psychedelically-painted bus was parked behind the building, and the Muppets went through the backstage area to the house and sat in the audience.

Kermit waited until everyone was situated, which didn't take long. Amazingly, Piggy, the pageant girls, and the camera crew entourage arrived at the same time. Piggy usually preferred to make a fashionably late entrance. And it normally took some yelling and arm-waving to get everyone settled down, yet they all looked attentive and ready to go. Either they were as serious about the show tonight as he was, or Scooter had finally figured out how to hypnotize them via E-mail.

When everyone was there Kermit sat facing them on the rail around the orchestra pit. He said, "I'll keep this short because we've got a lot to do to get the show ready for tonight. Are there any big snags? Logistical issues? Anything Scooter or I need to deal with?" Nobody answered. "Piggy?"

Miss Piggy answered, "We're on track. We rehearsed all last evening. We just need to run through it a few times more."

He glanced around at the girls' faces. They looked confident and eager. _They_ believed they were ready. Good. "Will twice do? Once before the tech rehearsal and once during."

"Perfect. Oh, Kermie, could we do one right now, in in front of everyone? So they can get a feel for performing in front of an audience?" she asked sweetly.

"Yeah, but let's hustle. We don't have a lot of time."

Piggy stood. "You heard him. Move it!"

Cheerfully the girls scampered for the exit to the backstage, with Piggy and the crew following. Kermit said. "Anyone else? Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Rowlf said, "I got something. It's not a problem. In case things run short or we need to stall I have an act that'll fill a few minutes. Just me, backstage, on a piano. We can pipe that onto the screen on short notice, right?"

Janken turned back in his seat to face Rowlf and answered, "I'll need to set up the camera and lights ahead of time, but after that it's just a few button presses. Easy peasy."

Kermit trusted Rowlf. The dog was a trouper, and one of the very first Muppets. He wouldn't pick a song that was unsuitable or that they didn't have the rights to. "Sounds good. Have it ready in case we need it." Rowlf nodded. Scooter made a note. Kermit heard the sounds of Piggy and the girls getting set up on the stage behind him. He said, "Anyone else?"

Gonzo said, "I got an idea. You know how I submitted a pile of stunt ideas. I can do a bunch of 'em in _one show!_ Start out on one, then have it cut off by another act or a prop failure or something. Make it into a running gag, over and over. Use up all the ideas that'd never work for real."

Frowning, Kermit began, "Gonzo, we don't have time-"

"I know! This'll take a lot of planning. I'll need to focus on it if I'm gonna get it ready for next week or the one after that. So I'll sit this week's show out if that's all right with you. I'll be here, but just as Billie's roadie, unless you need me."

_In other words_, Kermit mentally translated, _don't worry about trying to write me into and act so my feelings won't be hurt; I'll save it up for another show. Thank you, Gonzo_. "Sounds like a good idea. When all this is over we'll talk more about it. Anyone else?"

Nobody answered right away. Behind him Miss Piggy said, _"Ahem."_

Kermit looked back. Miss Piggy was in the wings, glowering at someone in the audience. "Can we get some playback here?"

"Oops, sorry." Janken jumped up and scrambled over to backstage left. After a minute the stage lights came up and the background music began. Offstage, Miss Piggy screamed as if in a rage. The girls scattered onto the stage and made as if hiding behind props or each other. Kate said, "I told you that was her feather boa!"

Haughtily Tessie replied, flipping an invisible boa over her shoulder, "It doesn't have her name on it!"

Julie complained, "Some babysitter she is."

Duffy nodded. "The theater's supposed to be fun."

"It oughtta be fun," Molly said.

Pepper put her fists on her hips. "If we want fun, we're gonna have to make it ourselves!"

The children griped a bit more about their lousy babysitter, then segued into their song. They performed it with all the energy of little girls venting their frustrations onstage. When Tessie began strutting about the stage, doing a broad impression of Miss Piggy, the other Muppets laughed. Kermit glanced at Piggy, who as watching in the wings. She was grinning. He'd bet she had coached her in that imitation.

At the end of the song Miss Piggy stormed onto the stage and snapped, "Do I hear happiness out here?"

The girls froze, then chorused, "We love you, Miss Piggy."

She stopped, surprised, then said, "Well. Um…come along, dears."

She escorted them offstage again. The last to leave the stage was Tessie, who glanced back at the audience, then did an exaggerated, hip-wagging impression of Miss Piggy's strut as she left the stage.

In the wings, they heard the applause. The girls were grinning excitedly. Miss Piggy told them, "That was perfect! Do it just like that and we'll knock 'em dead!" She went back onto the stage and asked Kermit, "Was that all right?"

"That was great," Kermit said. "We'll just need a smooth segue into and out of that. What about the backstage business?"

"That won't take but a moment to film. We'll need Hilda and the wardrobe room, plus whoever will be hanging around backstage."

"Do that now. Janken, film 'em."

Over the PA system Janken replied, "Will do."

Kermit looked back at the other Muppets. "Okay. Anything else? No? Well, let's get cracking. The girls and Piggy will be in the second act, so anyone who'd be hanging around then, get into costume to shoot the backstage bits."

The Muppets scattered. Kermit sat in the seats. Barring any unforeseen disasters—as opposed to foreseen ones—he could relax for a few minutes. He was emceeing the show, and had a role in one act, but nothing he need worry about. It looked like everyone else knew what they were doing. The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a grin as he thought that merely saying that to himself was tempting fate.

Scooter sat beside him. He said, "We're nearly there, boss."

"Yep. Y'know, Scooter, I know that we can pull a show together. No matter what has happened—guest stars backing out or getting sick, even having to do the show in a train station—we've always come through. When we're going nuts trying to get our acts together I have to remind myself of that, over and over."

Scooter chuckled. Then his expression became more serious. "Um, Kermit, there's something I'd like to talk with you about. Nothing to worry about, but can we go to your office?"

_Kermit, not 'boss'?_ "Sure."

* * *

When Scooter closed the door behind himself Kermit said, "What's this about?"

Scooter hesitated, then said, "I made a video last night. I want to post it, but I'd like you to see it first. Partly because, even though it's personal, it'll still reflect on me as a Muppet. And, well, because you're my friend."

"All right," Kermit said.

Scooter tapped and swiped on his pad for a moment, then handed it to Kermit. It was a YouTube page, and the video's preview image was Scooter in front of the brick wall at the back of the stage. Scooter said, "Right now this is a private video. Nobody else can see it."

Kermit tapped on the play icon. After taking a few moments to buffer, the video began. "Hi, I'm Scooter. I'm the stage manager for _The Muppet Show_. And, as you must've guessed since this is another of those _It Gets Better_ videos, I'm gay.

"It's taken me a long time to get the nerve to speak up. Not so much of because I'm afraid of what anyone else might think or do, but because, well, it's a hard thing to come out and admit to the world. I've known all sorts of gay people, and it never seemed like a big deal to me. But when it's you, yourself…that's scary.

"You hear it every day, things like 'that's so gay' meaning that it's stupid or lame. There are organizations that will fight for their legal right to discriminate against us. There are states that will pass legislation specifically letting anyone refuse us service just because. And even though things are changing fast now, with more and more states allowing us legal rights like marriage, every time there's a step forward like that there's a lot of vicious backlash. Knowing what lengths people will go to to exclude you, and seeing them get away with that, makes you feel rotten, like you're some sort of freak. It makes you want to hide in a closet, lock the door from the inside.

"Stepping back, for the longest time I didn't know I was gay. Sounds funny, but it never occurred to me. I went on dates, they never went further than 'just friends,' and I figured I just hadn't met the right person yet. And when I did, when I understood why, I was scared. 'Why am I like this? What happened? What's wrong with me?' It's weird. If it was anyone else, no problem, it wouldn't have occurred to me to think less of 'em because of that. But I couldn't accept it in myself. I told myself I was okay, but it was a long time before I came to believe that on a gut level.

"I didn't tell anyone, not even my closest friends or my family, for years. I never thought they'd have problems with it, but I still kept it to myself. I could say it was because my private life was nobody else's business. But that isn't true. It was a lie, and that was one more thing to feel bad about.

"Nobody hassled me. It was all me doing it to myself. Internalized homophobia can make you chew yourself up from the inside. I spent years like that, and I didn't have to. And when I finally told the other Muppets, boy, they were surprised. But...it was fine with them. They told me the one thing that I most needed to hear, that I'd been wanting to hear for years: that it didn't change who I am. I'm still the same person I always was. That it's okay." He paused and wiped his eyes. "And the next day, things were back to normal. The only difference was, I no longer had to hide anything from them, and I no longer felt guilty about that. It doesn't sound like a big thing, but it meant the world to me."

He looked at the camera. "I'm really lucky. I have friends and family I can trust. And throughout all this time I've had that 'special someone' who has been ridiculously patient with me and put up with my lying silence without complaining. A lot of people have to face a lot more than I did, and without friends and loved ones they can trust. Those are the ones who really suffer—loneliness, fear, shame, losing their homes and jobs and even their _lives_. I could quote statistics, but I'd rather just ask you to imagine what that feels like to be in that situation. I hope imagining it is all you'll ever have to do.

"That's why I'm making this video. It's not because I want to tell the world about my private life. But when I felt alone with my secret, it would have helped to hear that there were others like me. You don't have to be alone. You don't have to hide. You don't have to be afraid or ashamed of yourself and tear yourself up from the inside. _You don't deserve that_. You're fine, and you have as much right to be happy as anyone else. You deserve to be respected as much as anyone else does, and that begins with self-respect. If you need help, get it. It gets better if you _make_ it better.

"And maybe you know someone who needs help. Having even one friend can make a huge difference to someone who's alone in a dark closet. Be that friend. Just say hey, I know, and it's okay. You can't solve all their problems, but you can at least let some light into that closet. A locked closet may seem safe, but it's a coffin."

He looked upward and, blinking, took a breath, then smiled and said to the camera, "Well, that's all I have to say. I hope this'll help someone out there. There are links in the description of this video that can start you off, help you find people and organizations to help you out if you need support or to find a home, or want to make a difference in someone else's life. See ya later," he finished with his signature perky grin.

Kermit scrolled down. There were several links there: the "It Gets Better" project, a TED talk, some other organizations. Kermit looked up at Scooter. "Sounds like you've had this bottled up for a long time."

Scooter shrugged, then admitted, "Well…yeah. I just now finally got the nerve. What do you think?"

Kermit patted Scooter's shoulder. "Go ahead and post it. We'll back you up. I think it'll do some good out there. And if there's flak, you won't face it alone."

"Thanks, Kermit. That means a lot. Um, I want to show it to the rest of the Muppets before it goes live."

"Good idea. What about your character on the show? I noticed the rings."

Scooter glanced at his hands. "Oh, yeah. Um, I'd rather not bring it onto the show that Jan and I are a couple. I just wanna be Scooter, stage manager and your right-hand man."

"All right." That might change someday, Kermit thought. And if it did, fine.

* * *

All named characters except Janken and Tessie, are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted materials are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and Tessie are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	14. Chapter 14

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 14: Second Wind  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

The Muppet Theater's auditorium was rapidly filling, and the chatter of the audience filled the room with a soft murmur. It was the opening night of the first show of the new season. The die-hard fans in the area had bought their tickets as soon as they had become available, and some people had come in from other cities and even states. A few tickets had been refunded after the announcement that Lady Gaga would not be the guest this week after all, but those had been snapped up as soon as Scooter had semi-anonymously dropped hints on several fan message boards.

Beauregard, who was filling in for one of the ushers, shone an industrial flashlight at the ticket of one of the patrons to be seated, momentarily blinding everyone in the vicinity. "Front and center. That's a good seat." He looked up, and saw a young, well-dressed man whose buttons were shaped like tiny bats, complete with glittering eyes. "Oh, hi, Ed! Lemme show you to your seat. I'm ushing today."

"Thank you, Bo," Ed replied. He set his hand on Bo's arm, and Bo led him down the aisle. An ebony cane with a batlike grip would normally have swept across the ground in front of him, but he knew that there were no steps or obstacles in the theater house.

Backstage, people were rushing around, making last-minute preparations, and squabbling to blow off steam. Miss Piggy and the girls watched from the safety of the walkway in front of her second-floor dressing room. Surveying what looked like a near-panic, Duffy asked worriedly, "What's wrong?"

Miss Piggy replied, "Oh, it's always like this. Pay it no mind."

Julie remarked, "Everywhere we've been it's always kind of nuts right before a show."

Kate finished the thought. "But _this_ is ridiculous."

In a low voice Pepper asked, "Are they filming now?" She looked around for the red lights that marked live cameras.

Miss Piggy answered, "No, we filmed the backstage parts earlier today. This is _normal_, believe it or not. Now let me look at you."

The girls turned to her, and Miss Piggy inspected each one with a critical eye. Their makeup and costuming was already in place. Each girl had chosen the outfit from the wardrobe department that they would wear in the show, and with the exception of Julie and Kate they had picked wildly different getups. Which was good; they were supposed to look eclectic. Their makeup, with one exception, was as subtle and understated as stage makeup got; they looked like cute little girls rather than tarted-up pageant brats. And they were nervous but eager. Which was fine; she'd have been worried if they _didn't_ have butterflies before their stage debut. She and the other Muppets would shepherd them through it, and they'd kick butt, and if those pageant show producers had a problem with her creative reinterpretation of their show they could take that, fold it until it was all corners, and stick it in their ears!

Molly asked, "Can I go watch the cameras?"

"Janken has to concentrate. He can't talk or answer questions now," Miss Piggy answered.

"I won't talk. I'll just watch and be quiet," Molly promised.

"Being quiet's what she's best at," Tessie said.

Molly looked up at Miss Piggy with pleading eyes. If she had begged or nagged, Piggy would have said no in a heartbeat. But she really was a quiet child. And they wouldn't be onstage until the second act. Piggy said, "All right. But come right back to me at the end of the first act, or before if you get bored."

"I will," Molly said. She descended the staircase, walking carefully to avoid snagging the wide skirt she was wearing, and went to the passage that went around the back of the stage.

* * *

When she emerged backstage left Janken Fraggle was wearing a headset and sitting at the console, looking at the monitors and making adjustments. Molly watched as he fiddled with controls, then looked at a small monitor off to the side. It was now showing the audience. He fiddled some more, changing the angle and zoom so it got a good, wide shot. A movement at the edge of his field of vision got his attention, and he glanced over and saw a kitten in a Gone-With-The-Wind dress looking up at him. He smiled and said, "Hi, Molly! I can't talk right now. The show's about to start."

She answered, "I know. Can I watch? I'll be quiet."

"All right. So long as Piggy and Scooter know where you are."

Worriedly Molly said, "I didn't tell Scooter."

"Well, if Piggy knows where you are, good enough, I guess. Pull up a chair." Janken twiddled the controls some more. "There. We're trying something new tonight, and I want to see how well it goes over. I'm getting the whole audience on camera. That way we can see how well it goes over, and if it plays to the whole house or if it only looks good on one side and not the other, or if it's only funny to the people in front, or whatever else. Oh, there's Ed. He's a regular, got a season ticket. I'll have to check with him too."

"Oh," she answered, and made a mental note to ask janken how he could tell all that later, when he wasn't busy, maybe between the first act and the second, if she didn't figure it out before then.

She looked at the stage. The arches were in place, and when she went into the wings she could see them from the back. They were just painted plywood with lights attached, and catwalks and things so people could get into place quickly. Each row was separate from the one behind it, so though they looked like a wall from the front they were actually more like a pyramid. They looked so real from the front, nobody would ever guess what was behind them. It was amazing, what they did to make things look so cool.

The PA system spoke with Scooter's voice. "Two minutes to curtain, everybody! Overture in sixty."

Molly hustled back and picked up a chair, one that she knew wasn't a prop, and brought it over to Janken's console. She set it to the side of his chair and sat down to watch. Janken was working the controls, and on the screen she saw that the screen with the audience was dimming. He was controlling the lights in the whole house! He tilted his head, listening to something in the headset, then said "Yeah." He flipped a few switches, first to flash small red lights in the orchestra pit, then to turn on their microphones. After a second the orchestra began playing the theme song.

Molly closed her eyes and placed her hands discreetly in her lap. She thought, _Dear God, help everyone 'break a leg,' and help me, Duffy, Pepper, Kate, Julie, and Tessie do really good and make our parents and Miss Piggy proud of us. I hope You like the show too._

* * *

The opening of the show, as seen from the audience, was a pretty close adaptation of the television sequence. Where it was not feasible to match the sequences, for example because Kermit could not get down from his spot in the logo from which he announced the show to the stage in under ten seconds, where he named the guest, they added some slapstick business to give him a little more time. Today it was Beauregard and Sweetums trying to bring in a podium, in the process endangering the rest of the stage.

In the audience, Ed listened. It was not unusual for the opening theme to be interrupted by bits of comedy. He could not see what they were doing, but that did not bother him; he let the silliness blip by.

The curtains fell closed in front of the arches. Molly looked through the wings. Muppets climbed down from the arches quickly. It took less than a minute to clear everyone out. The arches rose up into the flyspace. Behind them was a set that looked like a nursery. All of the babies were in their cribs, looking as if they were napping, and the few Muppets in this act who had been in the arches—Bean Bunny and several miscellaneous cute creatures—quickly took their spots.

Kermit was in front of the curtains. "Greetings, salutations, and welcome to _The Muppet Show!_ The show that asks the question, 'What is art?' and doesn't answer it. As you all know, we originally planned to have Lady Gaga as our special guest. Here to explain what happened is Sam the Eagle."

As Sam's signature trumpet fanfare played the eagle marched onto the stage and up to the podium. He tapped the microphone to make sure it was live—he could never take that for granted; there were too many childish persons in this troupe who dedicated themselves to thwarting him—and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I wish to speak to you today on the subject of one's duty as a patriotic American. 'Ask not what your nation can do for you, but what you can do for your nation.' There are the important things, such as displaying a clean, unsullied American flag and saying the Pledge of Allegiance every day to keep the flame of patriotism alit within your breast."

In the orchestra pit, Floyd shook his head. "He sure likes to yap," he murmured.

Rowlf, at the piano, told him, "He'll keep it short. When they let him take this segue it was on one condition. If he went over a minute and a half it'd be a pie in the face. On stage."

Floyd looked up with great interest. "You tell 'em, Sam!"

San did not hear them. When he was speaking on his favorite topic—patriotism—he was very hard to distract. He continued, "But there are duties that we do not like. That we put off when we can. That, like going to heaven, we want to do sometime, just _not right now."_ He said the last part in a mocking tone. He was warmed up now, and did not hear the "Amen!" from the pit. "I speak, of course, of jury service. In what other country can decent, hardworking citizens decide the fate of the hooligans and lowlifes who disgrace our fair streets? Far from being a dirty job, it is an honor and a privilege to take part in the workings of justice, to be a cog in its _magnificent_ machine!"

"How close is he?" Floyd whispered.

"He's got thirty-seven seconds to go," said a voice near the floor.

Floyd looked down. Rizzo was there, with a stopwatch. The rat said, "What? I got a bet riding on this."

Sam continued, "And that brings me to our guest star. The absurdly-named Lady Gaga was supposed to grace our stage with her _distinctive_ presence this week. But she is not here! And why, you ask? What could be more important? This 'pop star,' this person who wears ridiculous clothes and sings about mercy- knows-what, has answered the call of her country! She is serving on a jury, standing in judgment of her fellow American. If such a _questionable_ person can rise to the call of duty, how can any other patriot fail to? And don't give me that namby-pamby 'nonrefundable plane ticket' nonsense." He pounded the podium with his fist. "There will _always_ be another flight!"

He glared over the podium at the audience. They were hanging on his every word. He even heard applause and cheers; the podium prevented him from realizing that they came from the orchestra pit. Satisfied that his point had been made, he moved on to the last point in his speech. "Although we may not have _Lady_ Gaga, we do have…baby ga-ga." He rolled his eyes and crumpled up a piece of paper. Throwing it over his shoulder, he muttered, "This is why I prefer to write my own material."

Sam stalked offstage. Floyd shook his head. "I was looking forward to that pie."

Rizzo said, "Me too. It was coconut crème."

* * *

Kermit had worried that Sam's diatribe might put the babies to sleep for real proved unfounded. The act went off smoothly, just as rehearsed, plus a few ad-libs. When it was over and the curtain came down again various Muppets, performers and stagehands both, came in to change the set. Billie hopped up, ran to the wings where Gonzo was waiting, and jumped into his arms. "I did great!"

"You sure did," he told her, grinning as he swung her up.

Of Bobby Benson's Baby Band, half were ready for a nap, and their cribs were being rolled to their dressing room. The other half elected to remain backstage playing with Sweetums. The big, shaggy, good-natured ogre was more irresistible than a sheepdog.

Tessie said, "I still can't believe it. How can _babies_ do an act like that?"

A head that was bald except for a few blonde ringlets peeped over Sweetums's shoulder. She took her thumb out of her mouth and said, "Wehearse, but don't over-wehearse or you'll get stagey."

Sweetums patted her head with his big hand. "Haw, haw. Kids say the darnedest things."

* * *

Usually as soon as one act ended another began. However, this time the curtains closed over the rave-like set, and nobody came out in front. Instead, the audience heard voices, as if someone had hooked backstage speakers to the theater's sound system. Kermit said, "Scooter, what's up next? Quick, I have to do the intro!"

Scooter answered, "Bunsen and Beaker."

The audience was chuckling, assuming they were being treated to a novel variation on typical Muppet gaffes and technical difficulties. Kermit asked, "Great. What's their invention?"

Bunsen spoke. "Today we will demonstrate a new enzyme that will turn anything transparent one way. For example, this wall. We could see the audience, but they couldn't see us." There was a loud _splat_, and an image of the backstage appeared to the left of the stage.

Ed saw a glow appear beside the stage. There was startled laughter from the audience. He smiled. _That_ was new!

Kermit peered at the transparent wall. He said, "How long does it take?"

Crestfallen, Bunsen said, "The effect should be instantaneous. Ah well, back to the drawing board."

Kermit shook his head. Scooter came into frame. "Kermit, remember how you didn't want me to tell anyone about how worried you've been about the budget?"

Kermit gave Scooter a look. "Yes, I remember," he said in an exasperated tone.

"Well, worry no more, chief! It's all under control. I've found a way to make up the shortfall."

Startled, Kermit asked his beaming go-fer, "How'd you manage that? Merchandising?"

"Nope!"

"Renegotiating our broadcast contract?"

"Can I _do_ that?"

"No."

"In that case, no, I didn't. You know how we've always got people hanging around backstage with nothing to do between acts? I've found something for them to do."

Scooter stepped aside, revealing Sweetums, who was patiently enduring a swarm of babies. They were energetically climbing all over him, tugging his fur, and sitting on his head. Scooter said, "Babysitting. He's a natural."

Kermit said, "You're kidding."

"They'll be no trouble at all," Scooter assured Kermit. "After their act they'll be tired out, and sleep for the rest of the show."

"Scooter, they just _finished_ their act and they're not tired at all."

Scooter and Kermit looked back at Sweetums. "Better play some more peek-a-boo. They'll get tuckered out in no time."

"Okay." Sweetums covered his eyes.

Scooter told Kermit, "See? And the other ones will be no trouble at all."

Miss Piggy walked in. "Kermit! Kermit, what is happening here? I can't take two steps around here without running into another ankle-biter. _Ow!"_ She raised her leg, revealing an onesie-clad baby holding onto her leg.

"Oh, there she is." Scooter quickly took the baby and handed her to Sweetums.

"They are _everywhere!_ I went into my dressing room and some little twerp was playing with my_ makeup!"_

While Miss Piggy complained to Kermit, Scooter beckoned several little girls of varying species into frame. He whispered to them quickly and urgently, glancing back over his shoulder at the discontented diva. When he seemed to have reached an agreement with them he said, "Ah, Miss Piggy?"

"What?" she snapped.

"Do you have a moment?"

If the go-fer didn't have a darned good reason for interrupting her, he was going to get it with both barrels. She huffed and turned around. With him were a bunch of little girls, including a bird who had obviously been dabbling inexpertly in _someone's_ makeup. One, a sheep, asked, "Can I have your autograph?"

"Me too?" said a kitten in a soft, earnest voice.

The others all joined in, crowding around her adoringly. Miss Piggy looked startled, then flattered. Scooter said, "Now now, girls, Miss Piggy is a very busy star. She may not have time to sign autographs."

Piggy said, "Nonsense, Scooter. _Moi_ can always make time for _moi's_ fans." To the girls, who were fawning full-force, she said, "Come along, dears. I have eight-by-ten glossies in my dressing room."

Kermit watched in disbelief as Miss Piggy herded the girls away. When her dressing room door closed, he said to Scooter, "You put them up to that, didn't you?"

"Sure did," Scooter responded.

"I don't believe it. It worked like a charm."

"It always does," Scooter told him cheerfully, and walked away. Kermit did a double take.

The audience laughed and applauded. Ed, clapping with the rest, was already imagining what the reaction to the surprise backstage scene would be on the fan message boards.

* * *

Scooter, watching the monitors over Janken's shoulder, was grinning. The audience was clearly enjoying the surprise cutscene, and it looked like everybody could see the projected image, even those at the front on the opposite side. Janken turned back and held up a hand. Scooter slapped his hand against it in a high four. Then Scooter went off to cross over to backstage right and deal with the next act. Janken turned to Molly and, still smiling, held a hand up to her. She grinned and patted her hand against his.

* * *

The next act, a western set in Siberia, went smoothly. The girls minus Molly watched it excitedly from backstage, just out of the way enough to avoid injury. The _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ film crew were back against the supposedly-invisible wall, filming the backstage bits that they were allowed to film. The director went into the hallway and took out her cell phone. After dialing, she said, "It's Edna. Yeah, fine. Look—this isn't playing out. At this rate we're not gonna anything out of this." She listened, then said, "Yeah. We'll keep filming for now. Who knows. But I say we're wasting our time here."

* * *

Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy, Sam the Eagle, Scooter, and Sweetums, are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Ed is a real person, more or less, and thus I suppose he holds his own copyright. He appears here with permission. All other named characters are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	15. Chapter 15

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 15: The Stranger  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

During intermission the Muppets got ready for the second act. Props and scenery from the first act were stashed out of the way, and the items they would need were set out. Kermit met Scooter at the backstage right desk, where the ascended go-fer was intent on a clipboard and his tablet. Seeing green out of the corner of his eye, Scooter looked up. "Hi, Boss."

"How's it looking?"

"It's good. We're on schedule. Want to look over the set?"

"Sure." Kermit had it memorized, but he wanted to glance at it anyway. Scooter handed him the tablet.

Rowlf ambled over and asked, "Think you'll need me?"

Kermit replied, "It doesn't look like it. But you never know."

"Gotcha. I'll be hanging out," the dog said.

They had spent all week scrambling to get the acts for tonight's show, and somehow Gonzo and Rowlf, two of the mainstays of the Muppets, didn't get parts, Kermit mused. It was weird how that turned out.

* * *

The girls were hanging around backstage left with Miss Piggy. She would prefer to be on the right, where all the action was, but the _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ camera crew needed room, and tonight they would run the risk of being flattened by any number of hazards. Piggy might entertain fantasies of ridding herself of their annoying presence that way, but if she wrecked the show then the girls would lose their spotlight. At first she would have happily deep-sixed _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ to get herself free of the burden her agent had inflicted on her. Now…well, she still hated the show and everybody who made it, but the kids were all right. This was their chance to prove that they were more than dolls, and she meant to let 'em take it as far as they could.

Janken was one of the few Muppets who didn't have scenery, costume changes, or props to worry about. As long as his console turned on and an up-to-date list of cues was pinned to the board he had everything he needed. The extra camera and sound crew was crowding him a little, but at least they had their cameras pointed away from him.

Miss Piggy and the girls were in costume. The girls looked like they had raided the wardrobe department, which was not far from the truth. Miss Piggy was in a robe, her hair up, her makeup minimal, as if she had been too distracted to get into costume. However, the effect was far from sloppy; she had composed her ensemble as meticulously as if she were going to pose for a magazine spread.

The camera crew filmed their backstage powwow. However, the director doubted she would use the footage. They were there to film _Teeny Weeny Queenies_, not "Backstage at _The Muppet Show_." It was in their contract that they would shoot this thing according to Miss Piggy's specifications, but nothing said that they had to use it.

Backstage, the speaker announced, "Sixty seconds 'til act two! Places, everyone!" Again Miss Piggy wished she were on the other side, where the fun was, but she needed to be with the girls, and she expected that they'd do better at the less-chaotic side of the theater. They needed to be psyched up, not psyched out.

Gonzo said to Billie, "Want to watch the show from out there?" He pointed at the audience.

"Yeah. Let's go," she chirped back.

* * *

The curtains went up to the spirited strains of the Toreador Song from Bizet's _Carmen_, revealing a man in a red ringmaster's suit with a wide ruffle collar. By his sides were a pair of large buckets. Gonzo and Billie quietly looked for some free seats in the "gods," the back of the balcony, where they would not be noticed.

Lew Zealand reached for one of the fish tails sticking out of the buckets. The water in the bucket splattered the stage, but it did keep the fish comfortable. He drew an arm back, then flung it forward, releasing the fish with a smart snap of the wrist. It flew out over the audience, its silver scales shining in the spotlights. Then it curved around in an arc and came right back to him. He reached out, and it smacked into the palm of his hand.

He dropped the first fish into a water bucket to refresh itself and grabbed another. He threw it, and it too arced out into the theater, arcing so low over the audience's heads that people ducked out of the way. But they didn't have to; the fish knew their role: out and back, dodging obstacles like tall hats or hairstyles. When that one returned, he threw the next two, each at an angle, toward the back corners of the theater house. Their paths curved, and when they crossed they passed so close that one fish's fin touched the other's. The audience wouldn't notice, of course, but Lew did, and he would compliment them on the maneuver afterward. Artists like to be recognized.

* * *

Sitting on Gonzo's lap, Billie watched, eyes wide. She had watched Lew rehearse a hundred times. She had seen him training the fish. She had even watched his act from the wings. But it was still exciting to see it from up here! Back there it was just the thing he did. Here it was _neat!_

Gonzo was impressed. Lew was keeping four fish going at a time, throwing them out in pairs, dropping the returning fish into the water and retrieving fresh ones without breaking rhythm. It was like juggling boomerangs! Wet, cold, slippery boomerangs.

Billie said quietly to him, "That's wow!"

Gonzo replied, "Yep."

A fish, the very last to be thrown, heard a familiar voice. It changed course, heading for that voice instead of the figure in the spotlight.

The next moment Gonzo was knocked back in his seat by a ballistic fish.

The music reached its final chord. Lew held out a hand for the last fish. After a moment, he looked around. Where was it?

There was a fish flopping around on the floor front of Billie. She giggled. It was funny because she didn't expect it and she knew it didn't hurt Daddy. He was hard to hurt! Gonzo picked up the fish and whispered urgently to it, "You're supposed to return to Lew, not me! G'wan back." Holding the fish by the tail, he flung it back toward the stage.

Lew, not knowing where the fish had ended up, ended by looking out into the audience imploringly and making a telephone gesture with one hand. Then he picked up the buckets and headed offstage. He was halfway there when a fish smacked into the side of his head, then fell neatly into the bucket.

The audience laughed. The curtains closed, and the screen on the side of the stage lit up again. Heads turned. In the audience, Ed listened to another scene describing the Muppets' increasingly chaotic attempt at a sideline babysitting service. The babies were treating the rats like toys and nearly smothering them with affection, and ominous noises were coming from Miss Piggy's dressing room. It finished with Kermit escaping from the situation to go out on stage. And the real Kermit, looking as if his nerves were rubbed raw, came out and introduced Fozzie's monologue. He started to go back, then apparently thought again and exited on the other side.

As Fozzie took his place on the stage, Kermit asked Janken, "How's it going?"

Janken replied, "Just fine! I've got a camera on the audience, and they're watching the videos and laughing at the right places."

"Great." Kermit went over to where Miss Piggy and the girls were sitting on some crates, waiting for their time. He had to grin at Miss Piggy's look; from a distance she appeared to be a wreck from being slowly driven out of her wits by a half-dozen conniving brats. However, she managed to make herself look attractive at the same time. The makeup was minimal and her hairstyle was askew, but both flatteringly so. He said, "It's just about time for your number, girls. You're going to be great."

Piggy said, "Of _course_ they will. I taught them, didn't I?"

His expression changed to one of worry. _"What_ did you teach them?"

The girls giggled. Kermit chuckled; of course he had been joking. "Well, break a leg! Which, by the way, is something you should never say to Gonzo. He'll take it as a challenge." He went to the crossing passage.

Scooter met him on the other side. He was assisting the babies, which were crawling onstage, one by one, and interfering with Fozzie's monologue by claiming him as their teddy bear. One had somehow climbed to his shoulder and was holding him around the head and chewing on his ear. Fozzie was gamely trying to salvage his act, and Statler and Waldorf were trying their best to sink it.

Scooter, seeing Kermit, asked, "Are Piggy and the girls ready?"

"Yep. They're waiting for their cue."

"Great. The show's on schedule, won't need to add or cut anything. So far," he added quickly. He was not superstitious, but he knew better than to tempt fate.

Fozzie finished his act and made his way offstage, his usual vaudevillian exit hampered by infants who, though they could not walk, could climb a bear. Once offstage Fozzie said to the babies, "Hey, you guys were really great! We were killin' 'em out there!" Still in character, they answered in a chorus of baby talk.

Sweetums said, "C'mon kids, back to Uncle Sweetums."

He tried to free Fozzie from captivity, but the babies clung tight, exclaiming, "Teddy bear!" Some threatened to cry.

Fozzie, surprised, said, "Well…okay." There were worse things to do between acts than be an ursine jungle gym. He sat down and said, "Wanna hear a funny story?"

The babies nodded and babbled. He said, "Well, there were these two polar bears on an ice floe…"

Sweetums listened as Fozzie told of how the floe cracked in two and drifted apart, separating the bears, who pined for each other. He drew it out, turning what might have been a short anecdote into a long, winding tale. As he did, the babies began to yawn, and their eyes drifted shut. As he felt their grip on his fur loosening he gently lifted them from their perches, one by one, and transferred them to Sweetums. "How about that. It works as well on them as it did on me. Ma used to tell me that one when she put me to bed," Fozzie remarked.

He started to get up, and Sweetums said, "Wait!"

"Huh?"

"What happened to the bears? I wanna hear the rest of the story!"

"Oh? Sure! Well, one day, one of the bears saw something on the horizon, a little bump like an island. It got closer and closer, and it wasn't an island at all, it was the other half of the ice floe with the other bear! The first bear couldn't wait any longer. He dove into the water and swam to the other ice floe as fast as he could! And when he pulled himself out of the icy water, you know what the other bear did?"

"No!"

"She ran away, shouting, 'Radio! Radio!' Get it? _Radio!_ Aaaah!"

The bear and the ogre laughed for half a minute. Then Sweetums said, "I don't get it."

Surprised, Fozzie said, "You don't?"

"Nope."

Fozzie sat down again, his chin in his hand. "Neither do I."

* * *

A little later, Miss Piggy and the girls were backstage right. The curtains had not closed in front of the set of the previous act, but the lights had dimmed so as not to compete with the cutscene. The audio was playing through the backstage speaker so Piggy and the girls would be able to hear their cue. They didn't need to see the video; having recently filmed it and then watched it again several times, they could see it in their minds: they had been pestering and annoying Miss Piggy, and flattering her just when she was about to lose it; they had finally pushed her too far, and she chased them out of her dressing room with dire threats. On the screen they ran toward the stage. Backstage, the real Miss Piggy let fly with a shriek of rage as the girls raced onto the stage, which lit up again as the image on the screen faded. They dodged behind props and scenery and peeped out, looking back toward the left. One, a puppy, said to a bird, "You shouldn't have taken that feather boa!"

The bird flipped the edge of a white boa that was so luxuriously thick it threatened to hide her face over her shoulder. "It doesn't have her name on it."

* * *

Ed, in the audience, listened as the girls griped about how bored they were, in direct contradiction to the cutscenes, and what a terrible babysitter Miss Piggy was, then segued into a song from _Annie._ They had changed the lyrics, however, to fit their complaints and their determination to raise Cain. In the middle of the song each of the girls had a short solo. He did not recognize any of their voices; they must be new to the cast rather than Whatnots dressed as children. He laughed with the rest of the audience as one of them did a ridiculously over-the-top impression of Miss Piggy. He imagined Miss Piggy doing a slow burn offstage.

At the end of the song Miss Piggy stormed out and snarled, "Do I hear happiness out here?!"

The girls replied in sugary tones, "We love you, Miss Piggy!"

They flocked around her, fawning sweetly. The bird lifted the boa onto her shoulders and said, "I'm so sorry I borrowed this, Miss Piggy. I thought it would make me as beautiful as you. I was wrong. You're _much_ more beautiful!" The other girls chorused agreement.

Piggy, startled, said, "Well…in that case,_ moi_ will forget about it this time. Come along, dears."

She herded the girls offstage. The bird hung back, and when the rest were gone she grinned wickedly at the audience, tossed her hair the way Miss Piggy did, then strutted offstage, wiggling her hips in an exaggerated imitation of the diva.

Once offstage, Miss Piggy said, "You knocked 'em dead! I knew you could do it!" She knelt, and the girls gathered around her for a group hug.

The _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ crew, filming from a somewhat safe spot out of the main flow of action, filmed the scene. The director, her expression neutral, didn't bother to make a note. There was nothing worth writing down.

* * *

The rest of the show proceeded smoothly, at least as far as any Muppet production ever did. The girls were as keyed-up after taking their bows at the end as they had been about their song. They hadn't rehearsed that, and nobody had thought to tell them about it; it was just assumed that because they'd been in the show they would take a bow afterward. But they had gone on with Miss Piggy and did what she did, and people clapped for them. It was like they were stars!

Afterward, the crew packed up their equipment, and Miss Piggy escorted the girls back to the limousines. She blew kisses to them, saying, "Bye-bye! I'll see you tomorrow! Bye-bye!" The girls waved back through the car windows as the vehicles pulled away.

When she turned back, Kermit was there. He said, "It looked like you all had a really good time."

"Yes, we did. Kermit, I'm glad I had to do this show after all. I thought I was going to hate it, but those girls…"

He took her hand. "I know," he said gently.

She looked at him, a soft expression on her face. He could see that she had really lost herself in this project. And it looked as if she was laying some old, bad memories to rest. "I'm glad you're doing this too," he told her in a low voice.

"Kermie…"

After a pause, they leaned forward just a little and kissed briefly. Then they turned and walked back to the theater. Kermit put an arm around her waist. "Piggy, the way you were with those girls, it kind of made me think…y'know, I bet you really would make a good, um, ah-" he stammered.

"A good what?" she asked.

"A good babysitter," he finished.

"Hiiii-_yah!"_ she said without making a move to clobber him.

* * *

Back in the theater, Scooter went to backstage left. Janken's console was locked but not powered down, and he was nowhere to be seen, not even in the flyspace. Scooter bet he knew where the Fraggle was. He sat in the chair, took out his tablet, opened an app, and changed the settings on a video. A confirmation screen came up, and he paused and let out a breath before hitting the submit button. Then he copied an URL and opened up his E-mail. He addressed a letter to all of the Muppets plus his sister, and typed, "This is nothing you don't already know, but I wanted to show it to you, my friends and family, before posting it for all the world to see." He pasted in the URL and tapped the "send" button.

A few minutes later Janken returned. He said, "Hi, Scooter. I was talking to Ed."

"Oh, how'd he like it?"

"He thought the screen stuff was really cool. Like watching it on TV, he said."

"Great! That's what we were shooting for. Hopefully it'll get some positive buzz going. We need it."

"Why?"

"Gagagate, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Heh. I forgot."

"Brother. C'mon, shut down your station and let's go."

"Okay." Janken unlocked it with a password, then said, "Hang on, I got an E-mail." He read it, then smiled at Scooter. Scooter smiled back.

* * *

By the time the Electric Mayhem bus returned to the boarding house, most of the Muppets had seen Scooter's video. Many of them had cell phones, and those who didn't watched it on their friends' devices. It made Scooter terribly self-conscious, hearing his own voice speak at low volume from a bunch of different directions. Janken put his arm around his shoulders reassuringly. Scooter murmured to him, "I wish I'd waited 'til we got home."

They went inside. Some went straight to the kitchen; the backstage eatery was never open after a show. Others, tired after the show or wanting some quality time with a deck of cards, went up to their rooms. Janice laid a hand on Scooter's shoulder and said, "Wow, that video was so _deep_. Like, you told us what you are and all, but I had no idea how it _felt."_

Scooter replied, "Thanks. That's how it used to feel. It's a lot better now."

Rowlf said, "I wish I'd known before, when you were havin' trouble."

Gonzo added, "Yeah."

Scooter chuckled ruefully. "I wish I'd had the guts to say something then."

Sam the Eagle said, "What I don't understand is why, instead of going through all that angst, didn't you _do_ something about it?"

Startled, Scooter said, "What do you mean?"

The Eagle folded his wings across his chest. "You stated that you were unhappy being…what you are. If you didn't like it, why didn't you change it?"

"Hey, he's h'okay, h'okay?"

"Most _absitively_ uncopacetic."

"Bawk bawk bawk! B'gark bawk!"

Scooter turned and raised his voice over the babble. "Hey! He asked _me."_ Turning back to Sam, who looked slightly stunned, he said, "Sam, being gay isn't something you can change. There is no cure because there's nothing to cure. It isn't a disease, it's just the way some people are."

The eagle replied, "Nonsense. Here in America one can make whatever one wants of oneself if you're determined enough! There is therapy available, you know."

Scooter shook his head. "Yeah, I know what you're talking about. Those organizations that say they straighten people out, do you know what they do? They teach you to be afraid of, to hate what you are. To believe it's so terrible to be gay that you'll lie to others, to yourself, so you can pretend you're not 'one of _those_._'_ For a lot of people it doesn't work at all, or it only makes them suffer more. I need that like I need a hole in the head."

"You keep insisting that you cannot change. Did you even _try?"_ Sam demanded.

"No, I didn't. And that's mostly because of this guy." He took Janken's hand. "I found out when I fell in love with him. It felt like I'd finally found something I didn't know was missing. It was one of the very best things that ever happened to me. I'd be nuts to put myself through heck just so I could lose him." Scooter said earnestly, "Plus, think about it, Sam. Nobody gets a choice. Do you think I went, 'Hmm, I can live a normal life, or I can have people think I'm weird, even sick, and give me grief because of something that has nothing to do with them? Yeah, gimme that!' I never decided to be gay. Did you decide to be straight?"

_"Yes!"_ Sam snapped.

There was a startled silence. Sam cleared his throat, then said, "Scooter, I am not asking you to change now. You have obviously made your peace. I was referring only to your past."

"I get it. No problem," Scooter replied.

Sam drew himself up. Stiffly he said, "Don't misunderstand me. Despite your 'quirk' you are still a good American. I consider you no weirder than the next person." He looked expressively around the room. "But considering who the next person is…" He turned and walked away.

The Muppets who had witnessed the conversation began muttering in an unfriendly tone. Miss Piggy said, "If he gives you any more guff, I'll knock that beak onto the back of his head."

Scooter replied, raising his voice a little to be heard over the rhubarb, "Really, it's okay. It was a fair question. And the whole point of that video I did was that it's something we can talk about, after all."

* * *

A little later, Scooter and Janken were in Scooter's room. Most of the other Muppets were downstairs watching TV, playing poker, partying, or jamming. Thankfully, Scooter and Janken could screen out the noise. It was a skill necessary for survival in the boarding house.

Janken said, "You handled Sam really well. I'm kinda surprised you didn't get mad."

Scooter sat on the bed. "You know Sam. He looks down his beak at everybody who doesn't say the Pledge of Allegiance every morning and wear star-spangled underwear. But you know how he often calls the rest of us weirdos, freaks, and stuff whenever he gets miffed? Notice he didn't say any of that. I really think he didn't mean to be insulting."

"I guess he was on his best behavior, then."

"Maybe. But I gotta give him credit for at least trying to understand. I can't ask for more than that." Scooter paused thoughtfully, then said, "I'll be back in a minute. Would you do me a favor?"

"Sure. What?"

Scooter handed Janken his tablet. "That video, set it to public, would you?"

Janken smiled. "Sure. Anything else?"

"Nah, that's all."

Scooter left the room, walked down the hall, and tapped on another door. A baritone voice said, "Come in."

Scooter opened the door and looked in. From Sam's expression, the eagle would rather have seen anyone else. Scooter said, "Sam, sorry if I came off a little harsh back there. That was stuff that I'd had in my mind for a long time, and when you asked it all came out."

Sam paused, surprised. Then he said, "Not at all. It was a very informative conversation."

"Good. If there's other stuff you want to talk about, y'know, without everyone else listening, I'm up," Scooter told him.

Sam looked away for a moment. Then he looked back and said, "I have no other 'stuff' to discuss. I believe we covered the subject well enough, thank you."

"Okay. But if anything comes up later…"

* * *

It was late at night, and Fleet Scribbler, wearing an old T-shirt and shorts, was sitting at his computer, editing an article for tomorrow's issue of _The Daily Scandal_. His legwork this week had not paid off, but that didn't worry him. He had a number of articles 'on the spike' for emergencies like this. They were generic stories; he could drop in whatever names were in the news and add in some vague but titillating details, and they were ready to go. The rent would be paid.

He saved the draft; he'd take a break before giving it the final once-over and sending it on. He minimized the word processor and checked his E-mail. Spam, stuff he didn't need to look at right away, and a notice about the latest videos on his subscription list. He opened the last one, hoping there'd be something cool there, or at least cooler than kitty videos. He scrolled down the blurbs and thumbnails, then, surprised, he clicked on one. After a minute of loading and buffering, The video began: "Hi, I'm Scooter. I'm the stage manager for _The Muppet Show_. And, as you must've guessed since this is another of those _It Gets Better_ videos, I'm gay."

Fleet sat back. "It must be my birthday," he murmured.

He watched the video, then replayed it. Then he sat back. No question, forget the boilerplate baloney, _this_ was his story. The only question was, what angle to take? This could spin in several different directions.

He thought for a few minutes, then opened up his word processor and created a new document. Smirking, he began to type.

* * *

All named characters except Janken and Ed are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Ed is a real person, more or less, and thus I suppose he holds his own copyright. He appears here with permission. Janken Fraggle is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	16. Chapter 16

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 16: Keeping the Faith  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Julie, Kate, Pepper, Duffy, Molly, and Tessie were sitting in a clump in the theater seating area, waiting for the Muppets to arrive. The filming staff were hanging out near the back as well.

The girls were keyed up about today's show. Last night had been so much fun, and now that they had been through it once they were past yesterday's nervousness. Tessie had a smart phone, and Julie and Kate shared another. All three were looking for mentions of last night's show. Tessie had found a message board where someone had posted about last night, and she was reading relevant passages to the others.

Kate interrupted, exclaiming "Check it out!"

Julie said, "No way!"

"What?" Pepper asked, trying to peer at the screen. They were watching a video, and someone was talking, but the sound was down low enough that she couldn't tell who it was. Kate pressed a button on the side, turning up the volume. Only Kate and Julie had a good view of the screen, but the rest recognized Scooter's voice; they had heard plenty of it while he was running around stage-managing the show yesterday. On the small screen he was talking about being afraid and feeling there was something wrong with himself, and then his relief when he finally confessed to his friends, who accepted and supported him.

"What was wrong?" Molly asked.

"Duh," Tessie remarked, rolling her eyes.

Kate showed Molly the screen. He was talking about helping others who were afraid, but he still didn't say of what. The title was vague, "It Gets Better." The video ended, and again Molly asked, "What was he talking about?"

"He said he's gay. He sure doesn't act like it," Duffy said, sounding startled.

Julie replied, "How's a gay person supposed to act?"

Duffy flapped a wrist. "You know."

Kate and Julie looked at each other and rolled their eyes in unison. Molly asked, "Why?"

"Why what?" Kate asked.

"Why's he telling everybody about it?"

Tessie asked, "What're you talking about?"

"That he's 'like that,'" she said in a small voice. All the other girls were looking at her now, and it made her uncomfortable.

Kate said, "You know, me and Julie are sisters."

Duffy asked, "Was one of you adopted?"

Kate answered, "No. Our mothers are 'like that'." She drew quote marks in the air with her fingers.

"No kidding!" Tessie said, startled.

"Yeah."

"Are they married?" Duffy asked.

"No, they can't marry each other here. They say they're really, really engaged," Kate answered.

Pepper asked, "Who do you call 'Mom'?"

Julie grinned. "My mommy is Kate's 'Meema,' and the other way around."

Molly wished she could close her ears.

* * *

The Muppets arrived at the theater and immediately started setting up. Props were put in order, and scenery was checked and moved into place so it could be brought out as soon as and in the sequence needed.

Janken went to his console and turned it on. He waited for it to boot up, then opened a browser on the main screen. He had nothing to do at his station unless changes were made to the show, so for now he had some free time. He went to a message board and checked the new posts. As expected, there was a thread about Scooter's video. He knew that Scooter had not checked on people's reactions; he needed to focus on the show. Janken, however, could keep an eye on things.

Janken read the thread carefully. He saw a lot of the usual posters, and the tone was overwhelmingly supportive, with a good amount of surprise mixed in. Some posters disapproved, but they did so in a civil manner.

Miss Piggy stepped out in front of the curtains and called, "Come on back," addressing the girls, but including the unavoidable crew as well.

The girls jumped out of their seats and scampered to the exit that led backstage. Miss Piggy met them there. "Let's do your makeup."

They went up the stairs and into her dressing room. Grudgingly Miss Piggy waited for the camera crew to set up. When they were ready Molly asked, "Would you do me first?"

"All right," Piggy answered. There was not a lot to do on the kitten's face; she only darkened her eyebrows a little and put eyeliner and lipliner on so her features would be easier to see at a distance. She was finished in minutes. Molly looked in the mirror—stage makeup was so different from pageant makeup!—and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, dear," Piggy said with a warm smile. Then she looked around. "Next."

Molly got out of the chair, and Pepper took her place. Molly slipped quietly out of the dressing room. Nobody noticed.

Molly walked down the stairs, then down another flight to the passage that led to backstage left. It was quiet back here. People were rushing around backstage, making all sorts of noise, but this was peaceful. And neat; they didn't keep anything at all in here. She took her time as she walked through it.

When she emerged backstage left she looked around. There was nobody here but Janken, and he was surfing the web. Hopefully he wouldn't be too busy. She went over and said, "Hi."

He startled, then looked at her. "Hi! You caught me by surprise."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Soft little cat feet, I guess."

"Yeah, must be. What's up? You look like something's on your mind."

"Um…can I ask you about something? Do you have time?"

"Sure. Pull up a chair."

The chair she had sat in yesterday was by the wall. She dragged it over, then climbed in. He asked, "So, what's up? Stage fright?"

"No." She shook her head and looked away. Eyes on the floor, she asked softly, "Is Scooter a nice person?"

Surprised, Janken asked, "Why, did something happen?"

She shook her head again. "Just, is he nice?"

"Sure. In fact, he's my best friend. Why do you ask?"

She looked up. "I saw a video today. He said…some things."

"…_Oh."_

"Is it for real?"

Janken asked, "What did he say in the video you saw?"

She looked at the floor again. "He said that he's a homosexual," she answered reluctantly.

"Yes, that's true," Janken answered gently. "Does it bother you?"

"People aren't supposed to be together that way," Molly said sadly. "God didn't make us like that."

_Oh boy_, Janken thought. This was what Fraggles called a puffball problem: if you stepped wrong it could blow up into a sticky mess. The topic was a non-issue among Fraggles; sexual orientation wasn't considered that important. But some Silly Creatures got especially silly about it. And it's especially dangerous to talk to someone else's child about certain subjects, religion chief among them. He shouldn't say anything, he knew. But, he thought as he looked at her, he was a Fraggle. When a Fraggle child asks for help, you don't brush it off because the kid's not yours; you help him or her because why wouldn't you? He'd just have to be extra careful to avoid the puffballs. He said, "What's your favorite dinner?"

Puzzled by the change in topic, she answered, "Corned beef and cabbage and potatoes."

"I've never had that. What's it like?"

"Well, my mom makes it. She boils the meat and the cabbage together. The meat's really soft, so soft that I don't need a knife. I can pull it apart with my fork. And the cabbage is okay, and the potato is really nice. Baked, with sour cream and little green onions."

"That sounds great. Does your mom make a lot?"

"Not all the time. I wish she would."

"I bet. Now, my favorite food is radish. One of my uncles is a cook, and he makes radish all sorts of ways. He roasts it, and makes radish pâté, and radish salad, and soufflé, and radish cakes and pies. When I go visit, I always look forward to his radish dishes. Yum!"

"Really?" she asked skeptically. The look on her face said it all: Radish, _yuck!_

"Yep, radish. I'm a Fraggle, and Fraggles love radishes. Kinda hard for you to believe, huh?"

"Yeah."

Janken smiled. "You wouldn't like a meal of roast radish. And that's fine, because radish isn't the right kind of food for you. You need other nutrition, like what's in meat. But, you know what? I can't eat meat."

"Why not?"

"Fraggles are herbivores. Born vegetarians. We can't eat meat. I tried it once, and it made me sick. Not because the meat was bad, but because I just couldn't eat it. Meat isn't good for Fraggles."

"Oh. Like Kate and I can't eat chocolate?" she asked.

She was getting it so far. "Yes. Rowlf either. And it's all because how how we're made. We're different, so different things are good for us. Now," he said gently, "if our stomachs can be made differently, maybe our hearts can too."

She didn't look away this time. She wasn't afraid to talk to him. He didn't act like she was too little to understand, even when it was a hard thing to talk about. But she wasn't satisfied with this answer. She said, "Maybe."

"It's a lot to think about, isn't it?" he said with a smile. "Do you like Scooter?"

"I don't know. I did yesterday."

She was staring at the floor again. He said softly, "Do you _want_ to like him?"

"Yes."

"Maybe that's because you already think he's a nice person. You wouldn't want to like someone who wasn't, would you?"

She shook her head. "Uh-uh."

He paused. He didn't know what to say next; he was getting too close to the puffball. She looked up and said, "Please don't tell him I asked all this."

Janken nodded. "I promise."

* * *

Pepper's makeup took a little longer than Molly's. It was easy to make a kitten look cute; a lizard was another matter. But Piggy did her best, and Pepper liked the effect. She relinquished her seat to Duffy and went backstage.

Her eyes lit up, metaphorically speaking, when she saw Gonzo. She had seen him yesterday, of course, but they had both been busy. Now the cameras weren't on her and he didn't look like he was doing much. She went up to him and said a bit breathlessly, "Um, Gonzo?"

"Hmm? Oh, hi," he said, and smiled.

"I'm Pepper. I just wanted to tell you that I'm a great big fan of yours. I like all the Muppets, but, um, you do stuff that nobody else does, and that's so cool!"

"Thanks. Too bad I don't have an act in this show so ya could see it in person, huh?"

"Yeah. But, um, well, I just wanted to say that. I'll leave you alone now."

"Okay, bye."

The lizard scurried off, looking as if she was ready to hyperventilate with excitement. Gonzo looked after her. Then he grinned. So he was cool? It was about time that someone else realized that, he thought, and chuckled.

* * *

For a while Molly sat with Janken, quietly watching him check the cameras and projectors. When it came close to the time for the show to begin she excused herself. She went back into the crossing passage. It was so nice and calm. She sat, her back against the wall, and closed her eyes.

Less than a minute later she heard fast footsteps. She looked up to see Scooter running toward her. He exclaimed, "Hey, you can't nap back here! We need to keep this clear."

"Sorry. I wasn't asleep. I was praying."

That surprised him. He paused for a moment, then said, "Here, come with me." He held out a hand to her. Reluctantly she took it.

He led her to the backstage right area and over to the dressing rooms. He showed her to one that was smaller than Miss Piggy's, with much less stuff in it. He said, "My dressing room's the only quiet place in the theater right now. You can have some quiet time here if you want."

"Thank you," she said.

"Don't mention it. Just make sure you're with Miss Piggy before the show begins. You'll hear a two-minute warning over the P.A. Gotta run!" And he smiled at her and dashed off.

She looked around uncomfortably. She didn't really want to be here. It made her feel weird. It wasn't like any other dressing room she'd been in. It was more office than dressing room, as a secondhand-looking desk was taking up a good portion of the space. Against the wall was a small clothes rack with a maroon suit, a black tuxedo, and a spare green jacket, and a few pairs of shoes below that. There were framed, autographed photographs on the wall; a man wearing boxing gloves, a girl dressed as Alice in Wonderland, a bearded man leaning his head in one hand and smiling. The makeup table had no makeup, which was strange. There wasn't even a chair in front of it. Didn't _everyone_ use a little makeup on stage? People looked weird and washed-out without it. Around the edge of the mirror, stuck into the frame, were little photographs. Many of them were of Janken, or Scooter with Janken.

She looked closer at one. It looked as if it had been taken in a photo booth. The way Janken was leaning toward him…and Scooter's arm wasn't there, a if it was behind Janken's back.

Unnerved, she sat down in the one chair, which was at the desk, and closed he eyes. Hands folded, she thought, _Please, God, help me understand. We're all Your children. Did you mean for Scooter to be the way he is? If he's taking the wrong path, and Janken too, please tell them, because they don't realize it. And guide me too. Help me understand what's right._

She opened her eyes again. They went back to the same picture, that of Scooter and Janken sitting together. They seemed to be laughing at a joke. She wondered, were they really as happy as they looked?

* * *

Miss Piggy, Gonzo, and Scooter are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken Fraggle, Molly, Tessie, Pepper, Julie, Kate, and Duffy are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	17. Chapter 17

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 17: Null Juggling  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

The second act began. Earlier in the day Kermit and Scooter had swapped a few numbers around to raise the energy level at the end of the show. Lew Zealand would go on later, which was fine with him. Few Muppets really minded when their act was in the show, so long as they got their time on stage.

Things went smoothly for the first few segments. However, Kermit and Scooter knew better than to get complacent. They did not believe in the usual theater superstitions such as never mentioning _Macbeth_, whistling, using peacock feathers onstage, or wishing each other good luck for fear it would bring the opposite. However, their years of experience had proven Murphy's Law a scientific fact.

The girls sat backstage right with Miss Piggy, watched by a camera crew that had found a safe spot against the front wall. They observed the acts through the wings while waiting for their turn. They could relax and enjoy themselves more than they had last night, now that they knew what to expect. And the other Muppets had made them feel very welcome. Piggy realized that she would miss them when the _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ filming was over.

Onstage, a bunch of amorphous, iridescent creatures were…well, doing things with themselves. Some formed a humanoid figure and juggled others of their number, and made what looked kind of like balloon animals. Yesterday the act had gone well enough. Now, however, something was wrong. In the course of their acrobatics several of them had gotten tangled together, and their efforts to separate themselves were spreading confusion and wrecking the rest of the act. Worried, Duffy turned to Miss Piggy and asked, "Is that supposed to happen?"

"No," Piggy replied calmly.

"But we're on next! Won't it mess us up? What do we do?" Kate asked.

"Don't worry about it. That's _their_ job," she said, gesturing toward Scooter and Kermit.

Kermit glanced around backstage. He could cut this short and move Fozzie's act up to give them a few minutes to fix the stage for the next act, but the bear was nowhere to be seen. On the other hand, Rowlf was right there. He appeared to be loafing, but he had been watching too, and was alert and ready.

Scooter said what Kermit was thinking: "Rowlf, you're on!"

The dog said "Okay," and crossed over behind the stage.

* * *

By the time Scooter finished giving Janken his instructions Rowlf was sitting at the small grand piano that was kept in tune for serious numbers. The Fraggle looked back, and the dog gave him a thumbs-up. Janken flicked switches, lighting the corner of the backstage the piano was in and readying the camera. Then he waited for Scooter's cue.

* * *

Scooter told Kermit, "Rowlf's ready. I'll cut it short now."

"Make it so."

Scooter flicked a switch on the desk several times. It caused a small red light to flash on every music stand in the orchestra pit. Four rapid flashes, a familiar signal: play 'em off! The musicians segued into a quick two-bar riff suitable for closing curtains in a hurry.

As the curtains dropped shut Scooter said to everyone backstage, "Clear the stage for the next act!"

Various Muppets began helping the tangled creatures off the stage. Some were fleeing in apparent panic. As they watched the roundup Tessie asked, "What _are_ those things?"

Miss Piggy replied, "Nulls."

"What're nulls?"

"Ya got me. I'm still trying to figure out what Gonzo is."

* * *

Rowlf heard the classic fanfare for a failed act. Janken pointed to him, and the red light on the camera came on. Rowlf, remembering that the image would be to the left of the stage from the audience's point of view, looked to his right. After a long pause he said, "Well, _that_ was something." Facing the camera, he continued, "I have no idea what it was, but it definitely was something."

He began tapping on the keys absently. "You never know what you're gonna see on this stage. That's show biz. But I'm glad to know that there's one thing I can always count on. To some it's just an instrument. But to me…well, it's much, much more."

He played the opening of a slow, bluesy ballad. Then he began singing,  
"Late at night  
When it's dark and cold  
I reach out  
For someone to hold.  
When I'm blue,  
When I'm lonely,  
She comes through.  
She's the only one who can.  
My baby grand  
Is all I need."

* * *

Satisfied that the situation was once again under control, Scooter told Miss Piggy and the girls, "After this song we'll play the video leading into your act. We'll be back on track, so it'll be same as last night, 'kay?"

"Okay," the girls chorused.

It was a little strange, having the girls answer him as if he was a schoolteacher. He certainly didn't get that kind of respect or obedience from the other Muppets. Not that he would know what to do with it if he did.

"I've come far  
From the life I strayed in;  
I've got scars  
From those dives I played in.  
Now I'm home  
And I'm weary  
In my bones,  
Every dreary one night stand.  
But my baby grand  
Came home with me.

"Ever since this gig began  
My baby grand's  
Been good to me."

Rowlf sang, and the four minutes his song bought them was enough to get the show back on course. He played the outro and nodded to himself in quiet satisfaction. When the light went off on the camera he got up from the bench and ambled over to Janken's station, where Scooter was watching over Janken's shoulder. Rowlf took the other side. The video showing the girls driving Miss Piggy crazy backstage was playing for the audience. Scooter murmured, "We showed backstage left on that screen, then backstage right. That's gonna be confusing."

Janken said, "I didn't think about that."

Scooter shrugged. "Still, better that than an empty stage. Thanks, Rowlf."

"Any time."

Scooter hustled off to the backstage crossing. Janken said to Rowlf, "That was great! I love Billy Joel."

"Give 'im a call. I hear he's not married at the moment," the dog deadpanned.

* * *

Gonzo and Billie had been watching the second act from the back of the balcony. They were surprised by Rowlf's act, but understood what must have happened. Then the girls did their song, and it went off like clockwork except when one girl, the sheep, tripped over a bit of scenery that wasn't in the right place. But she picked herself up and went on, so nobody in the audience would realize it wasn't part of the act.

Then the orchestra began to play the Toreador Song from _Carmen_, and Billie clapped, excited. She had been waiting for this! Lew Zealand carried his buckets onto the stage and began tossing the fish around, first one at a time, then in pairs.

Things went fine until midway through the act. One of the fish noticed Gonzo in the back, and flew to him instead of returning. Gonzo had not exactly anticipated this, but he was not unprepared. He stood and caught the fish before it could hit him in the face, then flung it back, crying "G'wan! Shoo!"

Lew looked up. The fish had gone to Gonzo again! He would have expected this from tuna, which were, after all, chicken of the sea. But these were pollock, known for their intelligence and loyalty! And yet they were flying to Gonzo instead of returning. Fortunately, Gonzo was catching them and throwing them back, and the audience thought it was all part of the act. Well, it was now.

Billie stood on the seat as Gonzo walked to the front of the aisle, catching and throwing fish along the way. This was exciting!

* * *

After the end of the show Gonzo met Lew backstage. "D'you know why the fish keep coming to me?" Gonzo asked.

Lew told him, "You know how fish are. They swim together in schools. If one likes you, the others follow it. Say, I had an idea about that."

"So do I."

While the two of them were discussing their common notion, Miss Piggy was saying her goodbyes to the girls. They had enjoyed themselves again today, and were proud that they had coped with the glitches. Miss Piggy was also pleased that the camera crew had been much less intrusive today. They were learning to stay out of the way.

Janken was still sitting at his console. He always kept it going for a few extra minutes in case someone wanted to to review their act. In the meantime he was surfing the web. Scooter came over and told him, "We're packing it in. Let's go."

"Have the kids gone home yet?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I just wanted to say good night to Molly. No big deal." That was a fib; he was concerned that she might still be upset. But he had promised her he wouldn't tell Scooter what they had talked about. "Check this. Someone had a camera in the audience."

"Oh? Let's see."

Janken clicked on a browser tab and showed Scooter a clip just under a minute long. Using a smart phone someone in the balcony had recorded the end of a backstage cutscene, which had segued into an act on the stage. Scooter said, "I'll show it to Kermit, but I know what he'll say. It'll generate some buzz, so as long as they don't post a big chunk of the show we'll pretend we don't notice it."

"I checked this user's other videos. He puts up lots of little clips, not stuff like that. I think he knows better. Or she."

"Good."

Janken began shutting his station down. "Oh, by the way, Scooter, I've been keeping an eye out for reactions to your video. It's been really good."

"Whew. I've been trying not to think about it."

"Yeah. All but a few boneheads are on your side. People say you're really cool."

"Good," was all Scooter could say to that. Although this was pleasant news, he kind of wished Janken hadn't mentioned it; right now he just didn't want to think about that. "I'll check it out after the weekend, I guess."

Most of the Muppets were already out back, ready for the bus ride home. Scooter and Janken descended the steps in the back alley. Somebody grabbed Scooter from behind. He stiffened and was about to drive an elbow back into his assailant when a feminine voice said into his ear, "Hi, nerd."

He stopped and turned around. Skeeter was grinning insolently back at him. Exasperated, he said, "Jeez, don't do that! I was about to clobber you."

"I'd like to see you try," she said. "Nah, not really. I don't want you to drop dead of a heart attack. Want me to wear a collar with a little bell on it?"

"What's up, Skeet?"

"I just wanted to tell ya something," she answered.

"Okay, what?"

She hesitated for a moment, then gave him a hug. "I saw your video. I'm proud of ya. You're a brave little nerd."

He hugged back. "Aw, thanks, sis."

She pulled back and grinned. "And I'm glad to see that even though you're a sissy you're not a wimp. Don't take crap offa anyone."

"Ever you?" he asked innocently.

"Me, you can take crap from," she replied with a wink.

* * *

All named characters except Janken are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _My Baby Grand_ is © Billy Joel. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken Fraggle is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	18. Chapter 18

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 18: A Matter of Trust  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was not a dark and stormy night. It had been some weeks since the most recent storm. It was, in fact, an unremarkably nice early afternoon, with weather that did not merit description except to acknowledge its pleasantness.

The girls and crew for the _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ program were sitting in the audience area, waiting for the Muppets to arrive and call them backstage. That happened soon enough. The girls went back to Miss Piggy's dressing room so she could do their makeup. Tessie pleaded to do her own; she could remember how Miss Piggy had made her up the previous two night, and she wanted to do it herself this time. She probably could, Piggy thought, and she could touch it up of she needed to. While Tessie was gleefully applying her war paint Piggy did the other girls. As before, Molly asked to be first, and was finished in several minutes, as she did not need much makeup.

As Miss Piggy began on Pepper Molly excused herself. She thought about walking across the stage, as nobody was doing anything out there, but it seemed politer to use the backstage crossing. She did, holding a small, cloth-wrapped box to herself.

Janken was at his console. He was sitting back in his chair; it didn't look like he was busy yet. Quietly she walked over to him and said, "Hi."

Janken looked over, surprised. "Hi. What's up?"

"I thought about what you said yesterday."

"What did you think?" he asked.

"At first I couldn't decide. Um…just a minute." She dragged a spare chair over, then sat in it. "At first I didn't know what to think. So when I got back home I told Mom. We watched the video together, then we talked about it."

She looked tense, Janken noticed, but not confused or upset as she had yesterday. That was encouraging. "What did she say?"

Well, Mom said that maybe that's not the way we were meant to be…but then, none of are exactly as we ought to be. Nobody's perfect. And it's not just because we mess up; we were made not perfect …" She paused, looking at him.

Janken could see that she had much more to say. "Okay," he prompted.

"Um, there are things I shouldn't talk about a lot. People don't want to hear them," she said uncomfortably.

"Things like what?" Janken asked, hoping that he was not about to step on a puffball.

"Religion," she said simply. "It's not right to push it on other people. But it's hard to talk about this without it."

"Oh. Well, how about this? Just tell me what you think. I'd like to know, and you won't be telling me that I have to think the same thing. Would that be okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," she said. She _did_ want to talk to him about it. "Well, God didn't make any of us perfect, and He doesn't talk to everyone the same way. There are people who don't believe in the Bible or never even heard of it, but God doesn't ignore them because of that. He talks to us any way we'll hear, even if we don't know He's doing it. We're all His children, after all."

"That makes sense," Janken said, nodding.

"What Scooter said in that video, he was asking people to be kind to each other, and to make their lives better by helping each other. That's what God wants, for us all to be good to each other and make His world the best place we can."

"I like that," Janken said, smiling.

"As for Scooter being homosexual…it scared me yesterday." She looked away. "Mom said that we are the way we were made, and maybe that really is what God intended for him. But no matter what, it's not fair to judge someone else because he's different. What matters is what kind of person they show they are."

"I think you're mother's a smart person," he told her.

"Yeah…"

She looked like she was getting stuck. "What kind of person do you think Scooter is?" he asked gently.

She met his eyes. "I think he's nice. When I was in the hallway behind the stage yesterday he told me I couldn't hang around back there. When I told him I was praying he let me use his dressing room so I'd have someplace quiet." She smiled. "That was a nice thing."

"Yes, it was," Janken agreed.

"Does he love you?" she asked.

Janken paused, surprised by the point-blank question. There was only one answer. "Yes. And I love him."

"You didn't tell me that yesterday."

"I didn't want to upset you."

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," she said sincerely.

He smiled. "You didn't, Molly. You weren't mean. You just asked questions, and as one of Kermit's friends likes to say, 'Asking questions is a good way of finding things out.'"

She laughed. "Big Bird! Do you know him?"

"No, we've never met. I'd like to sometime, though. So, Molly, do you feel better now?"

"Yes. Here, I brought this for you." She held up the cloth-wrapped box.

"Oh?" He untied the knot at the top. Inside was a medium-sized plastic tub, the kind people used to hold food. When he opened it he smelled a delicious scent. Inside were radishes, the tiny kind that grew in Outer Space. They had been cut in such a way that they looked like blooming roses. He took one out and asked, "Did you make these?"

"Yeah! I cut the petals with a fruit knife, then put them in ice water. That made them swell up a little so the petals spread out," she said with a touch of pride.

"Well, they're beautiful." He popped it into his mouth. "And delicious! Thank you."

She watched, amazed, as he ate the radish as if it was a slice of apple.

* * *

When Miss Piggy finished Duffy's makeup the sheep excused herself to visit the bathroom. She went into the first stall and was going about her business when somebody else came in. More than one person, from the sound of the footsteps. At the sinks, a voice Duffy didn't recognize said, "Is there really a point to this?"

"Probably not," answered somebody else. After a moment Duffy recognized the voice: the director, the one Miss Piggy had argued with.

"Look, you're the boss, but this seems like a big waste of time. We can't use any of this Muppet stuff in _Teeny Weeny Queenies_. Nobody's gonna want to see it. It's not even good for a blooper reel."

"I know, I know. But if we leave now we have to deal with the pig and her lawyers. Just go through the motions."

"Can I leave the lens cap on?"

A brief laugh. "No, they'd notice."

Duffy forced herself to wait while those two did what they came in to do and left again. Then she flushed, washed her hands hastily, and ran back up to Miss Piggy's dressing room. She went in, closed the door behind herself, and exclaimed, "They're not gonna make the show!"

Miss Piggy stopped brushing contour onto Julie's face and asked, "Who's not gonna do what?"

"I was in the bathroom! Two of 'em came in and said that the show wasn't any good, and they're not gonna make it!"

The child was so distressed she wasn't making much sense. Piggy put down the brush and said, "Calm down. It'll be all right. Now, what did you hear? Who said it?"

She looked around—she had everyone's undivided attention—and said, "The director and, um, I think the woman with the camera. She said that the stuff we're doing here-" She gestured around, indicating the Muppet Theater, "-wouldn't be any good for _Teeny Weeny Queenies_. They're only sticking around because they're afraid of you."

"Is that so," Piggy said flatly.

"Yeah. Honest! I heard it just now. No April fooling!"

The little sheep was holding back tears, and the others didn't look too happy either. Miss Piggy said, "So, they don't like what they're seeing here, huh? Did they say why?" Duffy shook her head. Piggy thought to herself, what did people watch those pageant shows for? Drama. They didn't care who won, they wanted to see little girls and their parents squabbling and acting like bratty drama queens. She grinned the kind of grin that is very alarming for those on the wrong end of it and said, "Then we'll just have to give them what they want, won't we? Wait here."

She left her dressing room. She found her quarry by looking over the railing at the desk by the wings. "Scooter!"

He looked up. "What is it, Miss Piggy?"

"Do you have a minute? _Moi_ needs _vous_ special talents."

Right now wasn't the best time, but he knew that tone of voice. "Coming."

She let Scooter into her dressing room, then closed and locked the door. She said, "We got problems with the pageant show. The crew thinks they're going to ashcan our episodes because there's not enough drama. We're gonna do something about that."

"Like what?"

"Like give 'em some backstage drama to chew on. Tonight, during the show."

"What kind of drama?"

"What kind of drama do you think a bunch of pageant brats can cook up?" Piggy said with a wicked smile.

"I…see. Gimme a second?" He took his phone out of his pocket.

"Huh? All right."

He thumb-dialed, and after a moment said, "Kermit? Something's come up. Would you come by Miss Piggy's dressing room? Thanks." He closed the connection. Whatever they had planned, Kermit ought to be involved, even if only so he wouldn't be blindsided when it happened.

Kermit was there a minute later. They admitted him to the conspiracy and again locked the door. Piggy said, "The _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ clowns are planning on deep-sixing the show because it's not exciting enough for them. They would take away these girls' big moment simply because they're bored! So _moi_ proposes we simply give them what they want, since they ask for so little."

"What do you have planned, Piggy?" Kermit asked. He ought to be apprehensive, he thought. When Piggy had a scheme, she pulled no punches. However, she was being up front with him, and adding Scooter to the plan was a smart touch; you always want the Stage Manager on your side, not to mention that he had a devious streak too.

"Just a little controlled chaos. Give them the drama they expect. After all, one can hardly blame these little dears if they crack under the strain of their first show, can we?" She looked at them, giving them an obvious cue.

Tessie spoke up. _"They_ may crack, but I'm better than they are. I'll win!"

Kate snapped, "Not this time. You can't get away with standing around and looking pretty here!"

Pepper warned, "You take Miss Piggy's feather boa and she'll _kill_ you."

Molly put her hands to her head and moaned, "Oh my goodness…"

Piggy snarled, "Knock it off!"

All of the girls chorused in fake adoration, "We love you, Miss Piggy!"

Kermit nodded. "You'll have to keep it backstage."

"Of course, Kermie! I knew you'd understand."

Scooter said, "You know, Piggy, you could base it on the backstage cutscenes. Elaborate on those."

"That's just what _moi_ had in mind."

Kermit said, "I may be crazy for saying this, but I trust you guys. Save your show, Piggy. Scooter, keep her from destroying ours if you can."

"Will do, chief," he said cheerfully.

"I'll leave you to it. Have fun."

As he left he thought, he ought to be worried. The diva and the stage manager were planning to wreak havoc backstage. That was a recipe for disaster, even if they had warned him first. Could he put the brakes on their cockamamie plan? Of course not.

He smiled. This was just like old times.

* * *

All Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy, and Scooter are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. All other named characters are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	19. Chapter 19

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 19: Worse Comes to Worst**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

The hour right before the show was a hurricane: either stormy or calm, depending on where you were. Backstage right was definitely not the eye. Miss Piggy was herding the girls around, and they were being more of a handful than they had been before. Now that their awe had worn off they had apparently been taking prima donna lessons from Piggy, and it was visibly wearing on her nerves. Kermit had been hashing the details of the show out with Scooter, and now Scooter was running the copier as fast as it would go. Overall, the backstage atmosphere was a bit more tense than usual, but not entirely out of the norm for the Muppets.

The girls, having had their fun with Piggy, began crowding around Kermit. "What'ya doing?" Julie asked, and the others chimed in on the theme.

Kermit replied, "I'm going over the set list for the show."

"Can I see?" Kate reached for some of the paper on the desk.

Kermit covered the pages protectively with one hand, trying not to look too aggravated, and called over his shoulder, "Piggy!"

She appeared and shouted, "Girls? _Knock it off!"_ The girls froze in place, looking shocked by her outburst.

Kermit said, "Can you please show them someplace that's a little less busy?"

"I'm busy too," she huffed.

"Could have fooled me," Kermit muttered and turned back to the desk, his back firmly toward them.

Scooter bustled in, a stack of yellow sheets of paper in his hands. "Script change pages! One for everyone! Get 'em while they're hot!"

Fozzie, who had been quietly staying out of the way—a strategy that years of experience had shown to be the wisest method of dealing with Kermit and Piggy's squabbles—took one, asking, "A script change this close to the show? Are we going to have a meeting about it?"

Kermit answered, "No time. Just read it."

"Well, okay," Fozzie said, surprised. It was unusual that they amended the script so soon before a show. They might drastically change an act on a whim, but that rarely made it to paper. As others took their sheets he saw that the scene in question came at the very beginning of the show. He scanned the page; Scooter had drawn a vertical line to the left of the changed text to call attention to it. Fozzie read, moving his lips slightly, "Scooter, voiceover via intercom. Now hear this. Tonight's show is going to be a little different. Whatever happens backstage, go with it!" He looked up again, wondering why they had seen fit to make a last-minute script just for that one line. He was about to ask Kermit when he saw the frog being pestered by girls who had been so nice before, and Miss Piggy and Scooter ineffectually trying to curb their unruly guests, when it clicked in his head. He said appreciatively, "Ahhhh."

While Kermit was looking around his glance passed over the _Teeny Weeny Queenies _camera and sound crew. They were filming it all, and the director looked interested.

Scooter said urgently, "Ah, Miss Piggy-"

"What?!"

He flinched and held his clipboard up as a shield. She said in an overly sweet tone, "What can _moi_ do for _vous?_ And make it snappy."

"Could you come with me a minute?"

"Fine. Kermie, keep an eye on the little dears, would you?"

"Oh, certainly. Why not?" he replied in a tone of voice that said "Like I have a choice?"

Fozzie watched as Scooter took Miss Piggy aside and whispered something to her. She listened, then nodded grudgingly. Scooter scampered off to the backstage crossing. Piggy said, "Girls, come here. Dears? Hey! **Get over here,** chop-chop!"

Hearing one of the key words they had agreed on—"chop-chop" meant "no kidding, do it now"—the girls finally left Kermit. She gathered then in close and said in a very low voice, "During the theme song you're going to take Scooter's spot in the arches. He'll start out there, in the third tier on this side. Just swarm him, he'll act like you're pushing him aside."

"Is that safe?" Pepper wondered. The third tier was high up.

"There's a rail behind it. It's safe, but don't actually push him," Piggy answered.

"That sounds like fun," Kate remarked.

"Anyway, just make it look like you can't wait to get in front of the cameras. Got it?"

"Yeah!" they all whispered.

* * *

The show's theme started, and the curtains parted, revealing the arches. Janken watched the scene on his monitors. He was briefly alarmed when he saw a flurry of movement in one of the upper left arches. The girls had invaded one of the arches. Scooter appeared to fall backward, but Janken quickly realized that it was just an act; if he had actually fallen he would have passed behind the lower arches. Still, it was a minute before Janken's heart rate returned to normal.

After the song Kermit went onstage to introduce Sam's brief editorial. The rest of the Muppets were climbing down from the arches, which were then flown into the flyspace. Scooter appeared to be the worse for wear, his glasses askew. He looked as if he was about to speak to Piggy. As he drew in a breath to speak she shot him a dangerous glare, one that said that she was already fully aggravated, and the next person to annoy her would win a jackpot of her ire. He stopped, recalculating his chances, then quickly went on his way. Meanwhile, Bobby Benson was helping his babies get into place for their number.

* * *

By the time the first video cutscene was played the girls had conspired to raid the Wardrobe department, and mimicked Sam behind his back while he lectured them on proper behavior for young girls. Kermit thought, did Sam really not know what a wonderful straight man he was? He was amazingly good at being oblivious. He had never admitted to being anything other than utterly serious at all times, and yet he could roll with the punches. Today's assault on his dignity was Tessie's mimicry, which he somehow didn't manage to spot. But he had his back turned to them most of the time, which looked good for the camera and allowed them to have their fun. Kermit smiled inwardly. Sam had to have a sense of humor, even if he would deny it to his dying day.

While the cutscene was playing Scooter went over to Janken's station. "Everything going okay?"

"Sure. Why?"

"It's been nuts on the other side. You're lucky you're over here."

"What's going on over there? I saw what happened with the arches," Janken said, concerned. "By the way, you missed your line. Going to dub it in later?"

Scooter hadn't had time to fill Janken in on the conspiracy, and he didn't have much time now. The penguins were ready for their western sketch, and the Siberian saloon scenery was being hustled into place while the cutscene played for the audience. "The pageant show was about to pull out, Piggy said, because things weren't interesting enough. So they're giving 'em some drama to film."

"The change page meant to go along with that?"

"Yeah."

_"Ohhhh._ Gotcha. Is the action gonna come over to this side?"

"Probably not, but I can't be sure. Be ready, just in case."

"Will do."

* * *

Janken did his job, working with the cameras and lights and wishing he could see what was happening backstage right. Sometimes he was glad that he was out of the center of action, but today he would have liked to see what was going on.

Right before the final cutscene Scooter ran over to stage left. "Jan! Don't roll the video! Cut to camera seventeen instead!"

That was one of the hand cameras. "Where is it?" Janken said, his finger over the proper button.

"We put it backstage right. We're gonna do it live instead!"

"'Kay." Janken waited for the cue, then hit the button.

Miss Piggy was clearly at her wits' end with the girls. There were only six of them, but they did a good impression of several dozen. She snarled, one step away from a complete loss of control, "That's it! I've _had_ it!" She paused, then whimpered desperately, "What's it gonna take to keep you kids _quiet?!"_

The girls exchanged glances, then went into a huddle. When they emerged Julie asked innocently, "Could we see the wardrobe room?"

Relieved, Piggy said, "Of course! _Moi_ would be _enchanté_ to show you the wardrobe room!" She beckoned, and the girls and a few babies followed her in a little herd. She unlocked the door and held it open when they crowded in, excitedly looking at all the glamorous costumes. Miss Piggy said, "Enjoy yourselves. If you have any questions, just talk to Hilda." She closed the door, then deftly locked it and pocketed the key.

* * *

"And switch to the stage," Scooter said under his breath. It was unnecessary; Janken knew his cues. He swapped to the cameras which were filming Kermit introducing Marvin Suggs. When that act was underway Janken, his eyes on the monitor, asked, "How much of that skit was planned?"

Scooter replied, "Scripted? None of it. They talked about what they wanted to do, and Piggy gave them a pep talk on the Stanislavsky system, and then they just went with it."

"Seriously? Wow," Janken said. He was impressed that anyone could ad-lib on camera; he himself stayed firmly backstage because of his stage fright. And these were kids! _Some people have it and some don't__,_ he thought.

* * *

The show onstage continued as planned. For a little while the backstage area was calm, as the girls were unaware that they were locked in the wardrobe room. But eventually they escaped, and by an amazing coincidence they did so just in time to rush the stage in the costumes they had claimed and do their song. And by an equally amazing coincidence, Miss Piggy discovered their escape just in time to make her cue at the end of the act.

The _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ staff filmed it all. The director thought to herself that is was fishy that everything would break loose on the third show when it went so smoothly on the first two. The Muppets were known for backstage chaos, but how much of it was real?

She found a sheet of yellow paper. It was one of the script change pages that Scooter had been handing around. She picked it up. The line in the margin called her attention to one line—one that hadn't been spoken.

* * *

Carrying his fish buckets, Lew Zealand walked out onstage to the tune of _The Toreador's Song_ from _Carmen._ As before, he began tossing them, first one at a time, then in pairs. Their scales flashed in the stage lights as they arced over the audience.

Soon, however, the fish stopped returning. Lew found himself empty-handed. Spotlights began searching around the audience. They converged at the end of the aisle balcony. Gonzo was standing there, his hands full of fish. He began pitching them back. Lew tried to catch them, but they boomeranged away from him, some even orbiting him, none coming within reach.

The audience ripped with laughter. Billie, standing in the seat just beside the aisle, giggled delightedly. Daddy had told her that they planned something new so they could surprise everyone. When he stood up and started singing something—she didn't understand the words, he wasn't singing loudly enough—the fish started coming to him. He caught them and dropped them into a water-filled bucket he had snuck in inside a giant-sized butter tub.

After the audience had had a good laugh Lew began singing in a surprisingly operatic baritone,  
"Le cirque est plein, c'est jour de fête!  
Le cirque est plein du haut en bas;  
Les spectateurs, perdent la tête,  
Les spectateurs s'interpellent  
Á grand fracas!"

The next two fish curved out of Gonzo's reach and smacked smartly into Lew's hands. Gonzo tossed a pair of fish sidearm and countered with,  
"People shout, people yell and holler  
With a din that tears the place apart!  
They're celebrating men of valor!  
Celebrating the brave of heart!"

He pitched another two fish. As they whizzed through the air Lew sang,  
"Toréador, en garde! Toréador! Toréador!  
Et songe bien, oui, songe en combattant  
Qu'un œil noir te regarde,  
Et que l'amour t'attend,  
Toréador, l'amour, l'amour t'attend!"

The two continued singing the Toreador Song, Lew in the original French and Gonzo in a loose English translation, as they tossed the fishes to each other, juggling them above the audience's heads. They kept it going until the end of the song. Gonzo missed a few of Lew's fancier pitches, but that didn't spoil the act. The fish knew what to do.

When Lew had caught the last fish and dropped it into a bucket to rest he took a bow. The resulting applause startled him. He'd never seen an audience get so excited by his act. Finally, they appreciated his art! Gratified, he picked up the buckets and escorted his co-stars offstage.

As he passed by Kermit's desk the frog said, "I had no idea you could sing like that! Why aren't you in the musical numbers?"

Lew replied, "Well, anyone can sing. But who else can throw fish away and have them come back to them?"

Kermit had no reply for that. Beauregard, who had been listening, nodded. "That makes sense."

* * *

From that point on things were a little calmer backstage. The girls, having won their battle for the stage, decided to be magnanimous in victory to the defeated Miss Piggy. They even took their bows together, hand in hand, with the girls practically dragging Miss Piggy onstage and her practically dragging them off again.

And then the show was over and the audience had cleared out. The act was over. The girls clustered around Miss Piggy in an impromptu gang hug. "That was _the best!"_ Tessie exclaimed. The others agreed.

She knelt down and gathered as many of them in her arms as she could. "You girls were wonderful! _Trés magnifique!"_

They didn't want to let her go, and she didn't want to see them leave. So, they compromised by walking out to the studio limousines in a cluster. As they got in she said, "I'll see you in the studio tomorrow! _Au revoir, ma chéries!"_

As the cars pulled away little hands stuck out of the windows and waved. She waved back. The cars turned a corner, and she turned to go back inside to change into her street clothes. The _Teeny Weeny Queenies_ film crew was stowing their gear. The Director said quietly, "Miss Piggy."

She walked over. "Yes?" she said sweetly.

"That was all planned, wasn't it."

All innocence, Piggy said, "Why, whatever do you mean?"

The Director held up the change page. "You don't really think I'd believe those girls would act like brats after two perfect nights, do you?" she said calmly.

"Okay, you got me there." Piggy shrugged. "You wanted drama, didn't you? Well, you got it. Your viewers don't have to know which night it happened on."

"Are your attorneys going to give us flak about what footage we can use?"

_"Au contraire_, we put on that whole act for you! Our attorneys have been instructed to let you use whatever film you shot backstage tonight, and to offer you some of our backstage footage if you like." She paused, then grinned and followed up with just a touch of smugness. "Those girls sure did put on an act, didn't they? They're too good to just walk around looking pretty."

The Director didn't answer immediately. She considered carefully before speaking. "Miss Piggy, I asked to have you on our show. I stuck my neck out for this. I thought that you would bring more depth to the show than squabbling stage mothers," she said quietly. "These girls look up to you. I'll see you in the studio tomorrow."

She got into the van while Miss Piggy was trying to figure out how to answer that.

* * *

When Miss Piggy walked back into the theater Kermit said, "Wow, Piggy. You handled that amazingly."

She looked up. "Eh? Oh, yes. Well, _moi_ is amazing," she said distractedly.

"You were right, they really do have potential. I wouldn't mind seeing them again."

"Yes. Oh, speaking of which, Kermie, I have a little teeny favor to ask of you..."

* * *

Janken was waiting at his console. He had been showing Lew and Gonzo, and a number of innocent bystanders, how their fish juggling act had looked on camera. He wished he had known what they had planned so he could have set up a few cameras at strategic angles, but there would be no point in saying that now. Billie had gotten a big kick out of the footage because her daddy was in the show after all, and pointed excitedly when she spotted herself in the audience behind him.

Now Janken was reading a website. Scooter came up to him. "We're clear. You can shut down."

"'Kay," Janken said, a disturbed expression on his face.

"Huh? Something wrong?"

"Uh, no. It's just, I read something and I don't know how to take it."

"What is it?" Scooter asked.

"Well, um, it's an article about your video. I saw the link on a message board. And, um, the article's by Fleet."

"Oh boy." Scooter rolled his eyes. He had not been looking forward to this. "Eh, that's life. I knew I'd catch some flak. So he ripped me up. Don't worry about it. I won't."

"No, it's not like that. It's…well, I don't understand."

Scooter said, "All right, show it to me."

"Hold on, let me find it."

Janken went back to the message board and found the link again. It led to a page within _The Daily Scandal's_ website. Janken got out of the chair, and Scooter sat down. Janken laid a hand on his shoulder as he read the headline: _Queer as Felt__._ Scooter shook his head. "He doesn't mince words, does he."

The article read:

_The Muppets' latest video has made more of a splash than usual. Instead of being their usual vaudeville retreads, one of their own—Scooter—has made an "It Gets Better" video. Yes, that's right, now we have a gay Muppet._

_This is news?_

_Look, these days you can't turn on the TV or surf the web or read a comic book without seeing someone gay. They're leaping out of closets like caffeine-crazed rabbits. They're in Olympic teams, football fields, and (rumor has it) women's tennis courts. Now a showtune-singing Muppet is admitting he's gay? Is anyone surprised?_

_Fine, he's gay. So what? What's the big deal? Does anyone care what he does to who and with which bits? He's going to have to work harder than that if he wants to compete with chicken-lover Gonzo or lizard-fetishist Piggy._

_If Scooter and whoever plan to take a road trip and get married, more power to 'em, but they'd better hurry if they want to do it while it's still worth reporting._

Scooter said, "Well, I didn't expect _that."_

Worriedly Janken asked, "What's it mean? I mean, I understand the words, but…"

Scooter smiled. Jan really did look baffled. Jan was smart, but he did sometimes miss things due to his different cultural background. "He could have torn me a new one. Instead he said 'who cares?' I'll count that as a win."

"Really?"

"Yep."

Janken shook his head. "Silly Creatures."

Scooter gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "C'mon, shut your station down and forget about it. Let's go home."

* * *

Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy, Fozzie Bear, Lew Zealand, Gonzo, Beauregard, Hilda, Marvin Suggs, Bobby Benson, and Scooter are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. All other named characters are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. The _Toreador _Song from _Carmen_ (in its original French form) is by Georges Bizet. Permission is given by the author to copy this story for personal use only.


	20. Chapter 20

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 20: Just the Way You Are  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Miss Piggy gave herself a quick once-over in the full-length mirror in the dressing room the studio had provided for the day. She was dressed in "killer casual": chic blouse, knee-length skirt, and heels that were not too high, all of which drew the eye to her curves without encouraging it to linger on volume. Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders. Her makeup accentuated her natural beauty. As ever, she was stunning, but she would not be _too_ glamorous.

This was the final day of filming. The last day Miss Piggy would have to deal with _Teeny Weeny Queenies._ It was also the last day she would see the girls. It was amazing how fond she had become of them in the short time they had been together. If, before the filming had started, anyone had told her that she would feel this way, she'd have sneered at them. Miss a bunch of pageant brats? Now that she had come to know them, yes, she would.

She had taken great pains to subvert the premise of the pageant show, and she had succeeded, and she believed that the girls were the better for it. That had not exactly been her goal, but she wouldn't admit that now. Now it was time for her to make nice, do what the TV folks wanted her to do so the show would be aired. For herself, Piggy would not have cared, but those girls would be so disappointed. So Miss Piggy would be so sincere and winning those studio frauds wouldn't know what hit them!

It was time. She stepped out of the dressing room and walked to the sound stage. When she opened the door the first thing she saw was tech: cameras, boom mikes, and the various underdressed people who operated that side of the studio. She walked past them and stepped onto the brightly lit stage. It looked like it was set up for a talk show starring a half-dozen children with one parent each. The girls called out "Piggy!" when they saw her. She took the seat in the center that was obviously meant for her and blew kisses to them all.

The Director gave them time to greet each other in their chosen fashion, then said, "Miss Piggy, are you ready to begin?"

"Would you give _moi_ just a minute? I'd like to say something to these people."

"Go right ahead."

Because all the seats were in an arc in front of the cameras, she could not make direct eye contact the way she would like to. However, it would be a mistake to get up and face them; that would turn her back toward the cameras, and that was not her best side.

She said, looking both at the children and their parents, said, "When they originally contacted me to do this show, I was just a teensy weensy bit reluctant. I don't talk about this often—I do not have pleasant memories of my days in children's pageants. That's why I have never shared those photographs or mentioned that part of _moi's_ life in any biography. I would rather have forgotten it entirely.

"However, doing this show, with these wonderful girls, has laid those memories to rest. These children don't have to squabble and bicker about who is the prettiest. They don't have to sacrifice themselves to live out their parents' fantasies. They're bright and talented, and, lemme tell you, they got _chops!_ They can go as far as they want. So, I want to say this to all the parents here: don't ever tell them what they can't do. Don't tell them they should stick to looking pretty and that they're not good enough for anything more. That's _hooey!_ Help 'em find what they're good at and enjoy, and help 'em go for it, whether it's singing or dancing or modeling or even painting scenery."

She looked around at the girls and spoke conspiratorially. "And as for you girls: right now you have a sweet deal. As a kid you have one job: to learn. Grab everything you can so when you grow up they won't know what hit 'em!"

The girls all cheered. The parents looked surprised—this was clearly not what they had expected—but she thought they may have gotten the message.

Tessie spoke up. "Miss Piggy, when I found out this wasn't going to be a pageant after all, I was disappointed. I like to _win_. It's what I do. But you got us to do things I never tried before. Actual _acting!_ I still want to be a model, but maybe I'll do other things too. So, thanks."

"You're welcome, dear," Miss Piggy said with a warm smile.

Duffy said, "This was the first time I really made friends with the other people in the show. You know, with pageants there isn't time to get to know the other kids, and sometimes they don't want to be friends. But this time I think we made real friends. Maybe we can keep in touch?"

"Sure. I'm on Facebook," Tessie said.

The others agreed. Julie said, "This was the most fun I've had in a show _ever."_

"Yeah. We got to do all the stuff we'd never dare, and even if it was make believe it was still a blast!" Kate said.

Julie said, "I bet all pageant kids wish they could get away with raiding Wardrobe and raising heck backstage."

Everyone giggled and agreed. Then Pepper spoke. "Miss Piggy, I'm grateful for the chance you gave us. You said once that it used to be that people didn't think pigs could be beautiful, but you showed them they were wrong. Well, maybe a lizard has a chance too. It gives me something better than being a beauty contest runner-up to shoot for. I'm not sure what I want to do when I grow up, but whatever it is, I'll do it as hard as I can!"

Tessie, next to her, said, "Hey!" and raised a hand, palm toward Pepper. She and Pepper slapped hands together.

It was obviously Molly's turn. Speaking just loudly enough to be picked up by the boom mike, she said, "I made so many friends this time. Many of them are like nobody I've ever known before. It was confusing at first, but now I realize it's a blessing. Miss Piggy, thank you for this opportunity."

A week ago Miss Piggy would have thought this speech was saccharine. Now she knew that Molly really meant it. She said softly, "You're welcome, dear."

She looked around. Everyone seemed to have said what they wanted to say. She said to the Director, "All right. Now, what do _vous_ want us to do?"

The Director answered, "Actually, we just got what we needed. I can't think of a better ending for this 'event'."

"What? That wasn't supposed to be on film. We were just talking!"

"This is reality television," the Director said calmly.

Miss Piggy paused, then smiled. "And it's in the contract that you can use whatever I do on this stage. Fine. We've pulled all sorts of tricks on each other, haven't we?"

Relieved that Miss Piggy wasn't going to haggle, The Director replied, "Yes, we have."

"Well, that's par for the course when you work with Muppets." She stood and said "Cut!"

The girls and their parents got up off the chairs. After glancing around to see that the camera lights had truly gone off, she addressed the parents. "I'd like to give you a little something for 'loaning' me your kids. This isn't a prize, just a thank-you." She handed an unsealed lavender envelope to each parent.

Pepper's father looked inside, and said "Season's passes to _The Muppet Show?"_

"For the whole family!" Pepper exclaimed. "Awesome!"

Piggy smiled. "I admit, I have an ulterior motive. I'd like to see you all again, and this seems like a good way to do it."

"Thank you!" Molly said. She held out a hand as if to shake Piggy's hand.

Feigning sternness, Piggy glared at her and said, "What's _that_ about?" She knelt, and the girls clustered around her for a big hug. The Director was glad that she had one camera light covered with black tape.

* * *

It was early evening, and the bar was just starting to fill. The karaoke was about to begin, so those who didn't like that had cleared out and the karaoke aficionados were drifting in. Scooter and Janken, who finally had an evening free and wanted to do something that had nothing whatsoever to do with the Muppets, walked in.

Janken paused when he saw a familiar man at the "little people" side of the bar. The clothes were nondescript enough, but it was difficult not to recognize that pale, rumpled hair. Janken glanced at Scooter. Scooter said, "Yeah, I see," and headed to the bar anyway.

Fleet Scribbler was hanging out, nursing a beer, idly people-watching. Tonight he had nothing much to do. His plan for the evening was to stay sober enough to drive so he could leave when the karaoke got too annoying. Until then, he would just chill out.

He was startled when Janken and Scooter claimed two seats at the bar. He tensed; it never paid to meet with his subjects too soon after an article was published. Janken looked uneasy, but Scooter seemed not to notice him. Could he possibly have forgotten what Fleet looked like? _I couldn't be that lucky_, he thought.

The bartender came over. Scooter said, "The usual for both of us, on my tab."

"Want yours in the bottle or iced?"

"Got a cold one?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll take the bottle, thanks."

Behind his dark glasses, Fleet watched the bartender curiously. He mixed up a few items to make Janken's Virgin Bloody Mary, and sure enough he left out the vodka. He stuck in so much garnish—carrot, celery, olive, radish—that anyone else would have asked if that was a drink or a freakin' salad. However, Janken would be grateful for the snack. He set that down in front of Janken, then popped the cap off a bottle and set it on a napkin in front of Scooter. When Fleet read the label he mentally rolled his eyes and thought, _Grape Nehi? Gimme a break._

Scooter requested a song list from the bartender. He flipped back a few pages, scanning the list, then wrote something down on a slip of paper, hiding it from Janken's view, though the Fraggle was trying to see it. He folded it and gave it to the bartender.

And then…nothing. Scooter and Janken chatted about nothing much. Fleet looked at their rings, and, yep, they matched. Thought so. But they weren't acting gay, no sweet talk or hand-holding or touchy-feely junk. They had to be a couple, Fleet was sure of it, but they were hiding it well.

Aw, heck with it. Fleet said, "Been keeping up with your press clippings?"

Scooter answered, "Nah. I haven't done anything that's worth being in the news."

Janken looked surprised. Fleet caught the obvious paraphrase of his own article. So Scooter had read it, and he wasn't miffed. Well, good. Fleet objected to barroom fights if he was a participant. He said, "So, what's next? Gonna starts a blog or make more videos?"

"Nah. I said what I had to say."

"How about _The Muppet Show?_ Gonna wave a rainbow banner there?"

"No."

"You made that video and now you're gonna wimp out? Gimme a break."

Calmly Scooter said, "What do I have that Takei and Keller don't have more of? They've got the activism angle pretty well covered. My job is stage managing the Muppets, and that's enough to keep me busy."

"Yeah, well. You guys looking for a wedding photographer any time soon?"

Inwardly Scooter sighed. He could tell that Fleet wasn't really angling for a scoop; he wouldn't be so straightforward if he was. Still, his questions were getting annoying. Scooter said, "I'll buy you a beer, and you keep your questions."

"You're gonna bribe a member of the Fourth Estate?"

"Call it what you like. Want that beer?"

"Yeah, okay."

The bartender had heard, and put another beer in front of Fleet, sealing the deal. At that point Scooter's name was announced, and Scooter left his drink and went up to the karaoke stage.

He climbed up onto the platform put there for "little people," and as the introduction to a ballad played, said, "If I know Janken, you all are probably good and sick of Billy Joel by now. So—sorry about this. And I guess this song is a cliché, but clichés are clichés for a reason."

_Sure knows how to sell the act_, Fleet thought.

As the words appeared on the screen, Scooter sang,  
"Don't go changing to try and please me.  
You never let me down before, mm-mm.  
Don't imagine you're too familiar  
And I don't see you anymore.

"I would not leave you in times of trouble;  
We never could have come this far, mm-mm.  
I took the good times, I'll take the bad times,  
I'll take you just the way you are."

Fleet rolled his eyes. What a schmaltzy song. He wanted to make a wisecrack, but stopped when he saw Janken's expression. The Fraggle was utterly enthralled.

"Don't go trying some new fashion,  
Don't change the color of your hair, mm-mm.  
You always have my unspoken passion  
Although I might not seem to care."

"I don't want clever conversation,  
I never want to work that hard, mm-mm.  
I just want someone that I can talk to,  
I want you just the way you are."

Janken listened to the song, feeling as if it was written just for them. He knew that Silly Creatures could not sing from the heart the way Fraggles did; for them making a song was a laborious process, and few actually did it. But they could sing songs that others had written, and mean them just as much.

"I need to know that you will always be  
The same old someone that I knew.  
Ah, what will it take 'til you believe in me  
The way that I believe in you?"

"I said I love you. That's forever,  
And this I promise from the heart, mm-mm.  
I couldn't love you any better.  
I love you just the way you are."

Scooter did little vocal improvisations during the saxophone bridge, then finished the song with a repeat of the sixth verse instead of the fourth:

"I said I love you. That's forever.  
This I promise from the heart, mm-mm.  
I couldn't love you any better.  
I love you just the way you are."

There was some applause from the small audience. Scooter feigned surprise as he walked back to the bar. When he got there Janken was wearing a bright, dewy-eyed smile. Scooter knew that a song could touch Janken deeply, and it looked like he had taken this one directly to heart. Janken opened his arms, and Scooter gave him a hug, patting his back.

Fleet hadn't expected this. On Scooter's side it could have been a bro-hug, but the way Janken was laying his head on Scooter's shoulder and sniffling…yeah, they were a real pair of three-dollar bills. _If they start making out I'm outta here,_ he thought.

Fleet's hand went to an inner vest pocket. He had a smartphone with a camera that would get good pictures without a flash. A snap of them would be useful. But…nah. He took his hand out of his pocket and picked up his beer. No big freaking deal.

* * *

Miss Piggy, Scooter, and Fleet Scribbler are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _Just The Way You Are_ is by Billy Joel. These copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. All other characters are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy this story for personal use only.


	21. Chapter 21

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 21: The Blooper Reel  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

[Scene: the karaoke bar. Janken and Fleet Scribbler are sitting at the bar.]

Fleet: Your turn. Truth or dare.

Janken: You kidding? Dare.

Fleet: Sing a Billy Joel song. But I choose which one.

Janken: That's all? Which one?

Fleet: _We Didn't Start the Fire_.

Janken: Ahh…what do you want to know?

* * *

[Kermit is in his office in the Muppet Theater. There is a rapid knock at the door. Scooter sticks his head in before Kermit can answer.]

Scooter: Boss, Miss Piggy is here with her girls. They're watching from the audience. I told 'em they can come look backstage between rehearsals.

Kermit: That's fine. [presses a button on an old-fashioned intercom speaker at his desk] Now hear this. Blue skies. Blue skies, everyone!

* * *

[Scooter is sitting on a stool in front of the brick wall at the back of the stage, speaking to a camera on a tripod.]

Scooter: Well, that's all I have to say. I hope this'll help someone out there. There are links down there [pointing downward] that can start you off, help you find—

Janken: [from the wings] Ah, Scooter-

Scooter: Jan! I was almost done!

Janken: Ah, I don't think you should point down like that.

Scooter: I'm pointing down at the description that'll be right below the video.

Janken: But if the video's embedded there won't be a description, and it'll look like you're pointing at, um, your pants.

Scooter: Uh…good point. Take two.

* * *

[Lew Zealand is standing on the stage. He throws a fish a-way. It fails to come back to him.]

Lew: [with increasing emotion] Stella? Hey, where are ya? Hey, baby? [throws off his tails coat and shouts] _STELLA!_

* * *

[Scooter and Janken are on the stage. Scooter, sitting on a stool, has just finished his video and looks emotionally drained. Janken gives him a hug.]

Janken: Anything I can do?

Scooter: Actually, yeah. It's been a heavy day. I could really use a laugh right now.

Janken: Hmm. Lemme think…ah. Be right back.

[Janken holds up one finger, then scampers offstage. A few mouse clicks later, manic synthesized music begins playing. Scooter looks startled. Janken comes back out of the wings. He puts his hands atop his head, palms forward to indicate rabbit ears, and begins singing in a ridiculous falsetto and dancing a hip-swing.]

Janken: Vi undrar är ni redo att vara med  
Armarna upp nu ska ni få se  
Kom igen  
Vem som helst kan vara med, vara med—

[Scooter jumps up and grabs Janken's wrists to make him stop. The music terminates in a record needle scratch.]

Scooter: Jan, thank you for trying, I mean it, but if you love me _don't ever do that again._

Janken: [surprised] I thought that was funny.

Scooter: It's funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha.

* * *

Kermit the Frog, Fleet Scribbler, and Scooter, are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _Caramelldansen_ is by the Swedish group Caramell. These copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken Fraggle is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy this story for personal use only.


	22. Chapter 22

**Once in a Lifetime  
Part 22: Postscript  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

A few extra scenes that I couldn't fit into the main story…

* * *

The scene: a public library. There is a reading in the kids' section. There are about a dozen children, ages ten and younger, of several species. The reader is Janken Fraggle, and he's reading _The Beginning of the Armadillos_ by Rudyard Kipling to the children, often turning the book toward them so they can see the illustrations. One of the children is Molly.

* * *

[Miss Piggy, who has been hugging the pageant girls after filming the final segment of _Teeny Weeny Queenies_, gets back to her feet and speaks to the Director.]

Miss Piggy: I have something for you as well.

[She produces a disc in a jewel case and hands it to her.]

Miss Piggy: This is the footage we shot backstage during last night's show. You can use any of it you like. I'll have the lawyers wrap that up in legalese later today.

Director: [surprised, not sure how to react] Thank you.

Kate: Can we watch it now?

Julie: Yeah! It was so _neat!_

[The other girls chime in. The Director, quickly overcome by the rhubarb, gives in and finds a laptop attached to a monitor. She puts the disc in, and the kids and their parents gather around. Soon everyone, including the Director and Miss Piggy, are laughing.]

* * *

[The Muppet boarding house. Janken walks in. A paper airplane lodges itself in his hair. He picks it out, looks at it quizzically, then sends it on its way without question.]

[Cut to Scooter's room. Scooter is doing something on his tablet. There is a knock with an unusual cadence at the door.]

Scooter: Come in.

[Janken enters. Scooter puts the tablet down.]

Scooter: How was the reading?

Janken: Fine. Molly was there. She gave me a note for you, actually.

[Janken takes a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and holds it out to Scooter.]

Scooter: Huh!

[Scooter takes the paper. A sticker is holding it closed. He carefully peels the sticker up and unfolds the note. He reads it, then, puzzled, shows it to Janken. It says "God believes in you," with a smiley face after the signature "Molly Flander."]

Scooter: It's nice, but I'm not quite sure what she means.

Janken: [smiling] Just means she likes you.

* * *

Scooter and Kermit Miss Piggy are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted materials are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Molly, and Kate are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


End file.
